Toxic Lives
by Katling
Summary: Set three weeks after Infectious Personalities. Two interesting cases land in House’s lap at once. While he tries to solve both cases, he and Wilson navigate the waters of their new relationship. HouseWilson Slash COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

Welcome to the sequel to Infectious Personalities. If you haven't read that fic, I do recommend it. It's probably not necessary to understand what's going on in this fic but it might help.

Disclaimer: The boys, Cuddy and the ducklings do not belong to me. If they did the show would be much stranger.

* * *

Chapter 1 

"I'm not sure all of your stuff is going to fit in here if you keep going like this," House observed from his seat at the piano.

Wilson glared at him from over the top of the box he was carrying. "There's only one more box to come. It's not _that_ much stuff. Most of it is books, clothes and music anyway."

"Julie's keeping the furniture then?" House asked.

Wilson dumped the box down on a pile of other boxes and straightened, stretching his back a bit. "Most of it," he said as he rocked his head from side to side, trying to get a kink out. "It's not like I really need it." He headed back out the door to get the final box.

Wilson's divorce was proceeding along its merry little way and he'd finally decided, after a blistering phone call from his soon-to-be ex-wife number three, to move all of his things into House's place. Julie's threat to take it all to Good Will had been surprisingly motivating. Of course it had meant that he'd been forced to listen to her bitter diatribe about himself, his work, House and his new relationship with House while he packed. Julie's usual description of House as a crippled troll had been about the nicest thing she'd called his lover and what she called _him_ didn't bear repeating.

He sighed as he hefted the last box out of the trunk of his car. He set it down on the ground as he closed the trunk and shook his head. The fact that everything he'd wanted to salvage from his former home had fit into his car said quite a lot and not things he really wanted to hear. Admittedly it wasn't like he'd needed to bring much other than his personal belongings. House had everything else he might need when it came to furniture, kitchenware and electrical toys…particularly the latter.

Wilson picked the box up and headed back towards House's apartment. His relationship with the other man was going surprisingly well. It seemed that their years of friendship had been oddly good practice for this new development. Nothing much had really altered except for their living arrangements…and the fact that they now shared a bed and had some rather good sex on a fairly regular basis. A bit more regular now than when they had first moved their relationship from the platonic to the romantic…or at least as romantic as one got with Gregory House. The attack by Armitage had led to House being kept in hospital for a week. Seemingly a bit excessive for a simple case of cracked ribs but House's leg had hurt more than usual at first. Both Wilson and Cuddy had been worried that some more damage had been done by Armitage's vicious attack. Thankfully that worry had turned out to be unfounded but Wilson felt the caution had been worth what had followed.

House's response to the extra stay in hospital as a patient had been vociferous and entirely predictable and Wilson had been forced to make some very lurid promises in order to get his lover to behave. He had, of course, followed up on those promises, partly because it was fun but mostly because if he hadn't he would never have been able to use that tactic with House ever again. Years of association with House had taught him that when you found an effective tactic for getting him to do something you held onto it as tightly as you could for as long as you could make it work. He had got the impression during that week that House's team had quite enjoyed the respite from their demanding boss and considering the case that had led to the whole situation, Wilson didn't blame them.

House had been back at what passed for _work_ with him for two weeks now and Wilson had been conspiring with the ducklings to keep things as easy as possible. House's ribs were healing nicely and his leg was as good as it ever was but he'd been oddly restless ever since the attack. Wilson had woken several times in the middle of the night to find himself alone in the bed and House out in the living room, sitting at the piano playing softly. Wilson wasn't entirely sure what was prompting these bouts of insomnia and House was being his usual elusive self when it came to discussing it.

Not that it seemed to be affecting House's work. He'd had a case last week and had solved it with his usual aplomb and his normal quota of insulting comments, gratuitous remarks and scathing asides. He'd even managed to ignore the amused comments from Chase and Foreman on his new relationship with Wilson with a certain amount of smug superiority. Cameron's reaction had been responsible for many of the scathing asides House had unleashed; she seemed to be alternating between not caring about their new relationship and being terribly hurt. On the whole, Wilson preferred it when she was in one of her 'I don't care' modes; the hurt ones seemed to involve a large number of sad, slightly betrayed doe-eyed glances at both of them that were quite frankly starting to get on his nerves.

He kicked the door closed after he entered and dumped the final box down with the others. He then collapsed onto the couch and ran a tired hand down his face.

"You know, the fact that the sum total of your life can fit in so few boxes is really…pathetic," House said. "I expected at least a dozen more to clutter up my place."

"_Our_ place," Wilson muttered as he let his head drop down onto the back of the couch and ignored the first part of what House had said.

Silence greeted that and Wilson very determinedly did not look over to see what expression House had on his face. _House_ was the one who had suggested that he move in permanently and that definitely made it _their_ place now, House's compulsive possessiveness be damned.

"If you start putting up frilly curtains, it'll be _my_ place again," came the eventual response.

"Perish the thought," Wilson replied with a smile.

"So what's in _there_?" House asked and Wilson heard the man's cane impact with something solid and not box-like.

He tilted his head so he could see what had caught House's interest then blushed slightly. "Uh, well, it looks like a guitar case so I suppose there'd be a guitar in there."

"I didn't know you played," House said, giving Wilson an interested look.

"Well, I haven't for a while. Haven't really had the time."

House grunted and nodded but didn't say anything else. Wilson knew House wouldn't ask him to play; the man rarely _asked_ for anything that might verge into the personal unless there was some serious entertainment value in it for him. He eyed the guitar case for a long moment then pushed himself off the couch and grabbed it. He opened it up and sighed. One of the strings was broken and he knew he didn't have any replacements. He took the guitar out anyway and rather skilfully removed the broken string.

"No tunes until I get a new string," he said regretfully. He plucked at a couple of the remaining strings and grimaced as they twanged out of tune. He put the guitar back in its case and looked casually over at House. "So are you ever going to tell me why you're not sleeping? I've asked four times so far and you've avoided answering the question each time."

House ignored him and turned back to the piano. He began to slowly pick out a vaguely recognisable tune. Wilson decided to wait him out this time.

"I'm fine," came the short response.

"Uh huh," Wilson said dubiously. "That's why you're only sleeping a few hours each night."

"What does it matter?" House said irritably. "Is it affecting my _work_? Did Cuddy put you up to this?"

"Well, no, on both counts," Wilson said reasonably. "But you do keep waking me up at night."

House snorted. "You are aware that the world does not revolve around you?"

"I know that," Wilson replied with a small smile. "It revolves around you."

"Damn right," House said firmly.

"So what's wrong?" Wilson pressed.

House stopped playing and stared into the distance. "Did we ever find out how he got in?" he said after a long silence.

"Who? Armitage?" Wilson said with surprise. "The police said he picked the lock. Is _that_ what's eating at you? That Armitage broke in here?"

House turned around and glared at him. "It doesn't bother you?"

Wilson was about to answer then he paused and took a breath. He knew that House valued his privacy greatly and that he was the only other person to have a key to the apartment. He just hadn't realised how _much_ House valued his space and privacy. Having a stranger violate that so cavalierly had obviously pushed something in House's complex and quixotic brain.

"The door and the lock were replaced," Wilson said calmly. "We used the people the police suggested and the lock is one of the best. It's supposed to be almost impossible to pick. I doubt anyone's going to try that again."

"You build a better mousetrap, you just end up with a smarter mouse," House grumbled. "Because it _kills_ the dumb ones."

"We could put a security system in if it worries you that much," Wilson suggested.

House gave a noncommittal grunt and turned back to the piano and Wilson made a mental note to get some information on security systems. They wouldn't need anything too complex and if it helped House sleep better at night then it would be money well spent. Wilson eyed his lover curiously; he never could quite predict when House was going to come up with some odd megrim but at least this one was pretty understandable. And speaking of megrims, Wilson had a suspicion that there was a discussion looming at some point in the near future regarding House's addiction and its effects on him. For now however House seemed happy to leave the subject alone and Wilson wasn't interested in rocking the boat until House was back to what passed as normal for him. It was liable to get moderately unpleasant.

He gave a deep sigh and pushed himself off the couch. He walked over to the pile of boxes sitting on one side of the room and pulled the tape off the top one.

"I hate moving," he muttered to himself.

"You should stop getting married then divorced," House said over his shoulder. "Then again, it clearly helps you keep the clutter to a minimum."

"Well, I think I'm fairly safe now," Wilson replied with a wicked grin. He then gestured around the apartment. "Besides, smaller space. That always helps keep the clutter down. When you have a big house, you feel compelled to fill it with _stuff_."

House gave an amused snort. "So what did Cuddy say when you told her you were moving?"

"Not much," Wilson replied as he pulled some books out of the box and walked over to one of the bookshelves. "I think there were a lot of things she _wanted_ to say. I think she's saving them up to use on you."

"Well, that's hardly fair," House said as he turned on the seat to watch Wilson unpack.

"You annoy her more than I do," Wilson replied with a grin. "She doesn't need to torment me."

"I'm _so_ misunderstood," House said dryly.

"I don't think you're misunderstood at all," Wilson replied, equally dryly. "At least not by Cuddy. Are we eating tonight?"

"Yeah, what do you want?" House said idly. "Unless you want to cook?"

"House, I burn _water_," Wilson said patiently. "So unless you want to cook, pizza will be fine."

"Now I see why you got married all those times," House said as he grabbed his cane and stood. "You were afraid you'd starve. Don't think I didn't notice that each of your wives was a skilled cook."

"Yes, that was always my first criteria," Wilson replied as he continued to unpack the box and House limped across the room. "Cooking ability, dress sense and skill in the bedroom. Always my priorities."

"Hmm, I guess two out of three ain't bad," House mused as he picked up the phone to order the pizza.

"Who says Meatloaf doesn't occasionally get it right?" Wilson replied lightly and was rewarded by a short laugh from House as he continued unpacking his belongings.

* * *

House limped into his office on Monday morning and dumped his bag behind his desk. He headed out into the conference room to get some coffee and found his team suspiciously absent. The fact that there was fresh coffee and the paper was strewn over the table told him they were here somewhere, they just weren't _here_. They could be avoiding him, something that wasn't out of the realms of possibility except that he was their boss and therefore avoiding him would probably be classed as a career-limiting move for them. Foreman might still avoid him regardless of that but Chase and Cameron wouldn't. That meant that they were either down in the clinic, had been called to the ER, were out looking for cases or had actually _found_ a case. He poured himself a cup of coffee then a second when Wilson walked in from his office. 

"Have your ducklings run away?" Wilson asked as he accepted the coffee.

"Hmm, now that was possibility I hadn't considered," House replied. "I suspect they're out trying to find ways of making me miserable."

"You mean they're looking for patients?"

"That's what I said, wasn't it?"

Wilson chuckled as they walked back into House's office. "Maybe they'll find something interesting this time."

"That'll be an improvement on last week," House grumbled. "It's always disappointing when it does actually turn out to be vasculitis."

"Actually I might have something for you," Wilson said idly in an attempt to cultivate House's curiousity. "I won't know for sure until I get the test results back but it's…a possibility."

"Why?"

"Sixteen year old boy being treated for lymphoma," Wilson replied. "I sent him to have tests to see if he's got pneumonia."

House snorted. "He's on a regimen of chemotherapy and radiation therapy. He's got a compromised immune system. How is getting pneumonia unusual?"

"He's also getting severe headaches."

"Stressful stuff, this whole having cancer and possibly pneumonia thing," House replied dismissively.

"I've also sent him off for blood tests," Wilson continued. "I think he has a kidney infection."

"All at once?" House asked, finally looking curious.

"Yeah," Wilson replied casually, keeping his satisfaction firmly to himself.

"Hmm, that _is_ interesting," House said. "Let me know the test results."

"If it turns out he has lymphoma, pneumonia, constant headaches _and_ a kidney infection, I will," Wilson replied.

Movement outside his office caught House's attention and he snorted. "Well, here come the hordes."

Wilson looked around and chuckled. "There's only three of them, House. I don't think that counts as _a_ horde, let alone _hordes_. But it looks like you might have some work to do."

House's eyes narrowed as he watched his team walk into the conference room. "Let's see if they can convince me of that." He grabbed his cane and stood. "Going to come and find out?"

"Why not?" Wilson replied as he too stood and the two men walked towards the door. "I've got some time."

They walked out into the conference room and House limped over to stand near the white board while Wilson headed over to sit at the table.

"Well, you all look disgustingly chipper," House said in a reasonably abrasive tone as he waved his cane at them. "I take it you're going to try and foist some poor unfortunate off on me."

"Twenty-four year old male," Foreman said evenly, ignoring the tone and the cane-waving. "He's been suffering from abdominal pain, nausea and vomiting off and on for the last five days. He was brought into the ER this morning by his girlfriend. He could barely stand and his feet and hands hurt when they touch anything. He's been having hallucinations and when that's not happening…well, he's having trouble seeing colours."

"He's seeing in black and white?" Wilson asked curiously as he sipped his coffee.

"No," Foreman replied. "He's seeing the colours in odd ways, blue as red, yellow as grey and so on."

House had started writing the symptoms on the whiteboard after Foreman had mentioned the hallucinations. Now he stared at the list for a moment before turning back to his team.

"Well?" he said with a raised eyebrow. "Suggestions?"

"Thamine deficiency?" Cameron said.

"Some kind of poisoning?" Chase suggested almost in unison.

"Guillain-Barre Syndrome," Foreman stated.

"Porphyria?" Wilson suggested with a small smile.

The three young doctors stared at him while House snorted.

"Porphyria? That's good. I like that one. Maybe he thinks he's a vampire too." House looked over at his team. "Okay, convince me it's what you say 'cause I like the vampire idea the best."

Cameron and Chase rolled their eyes while Foreman shot Wilson a mildly irritated look.

"Guillain-Barre Syndrome produces weakness in the legs and sensory abnormalities," Foreman stated firmly. "It can also affect the vision which could account for the hallucinations and the weird colour thing."

"How do you explain the abdominal pain, nausea and vomiting?" House asked.

"Guillain-Barre can also cause fluctuations in blood pressure, irregular heart rate, constipation, incontinence, difficulty swallowing," Foreman said with a shrug. "Any of those could either cause or be mistaken for the initial symptoms he had."

"Well, he's coming second to the vampire idea," House said as he turned to Chase and Cameron. "What can you two muster?"

"Thiamine deficiency can have nervous system involvement," Cameron said patiently. "It's called dry beri-beri and its characterised by both sensory and motor impairment in the extremities. And if Wernicke encephalopathy is involved then that explains the vision problems as well as the nausea and vomiting."

House arched an eyebrow at Chase. "Is yours as good as theirs?"

"Heavy metal toxicity," Chase said firmly. "Two of the organ systems most commonly affected are the central nervous system and the gastrointestinal system which could explain the symptoms he's presented with."

House turned to Wilson. "If they keep this up, I might be able to sit in my office and let them do all the work."

"Don't you do that anyway?" Wilson replied, amusement gleaming in his eyes.

House gave him a scandalised look that suddenly changed into a challenging one. "Alright, Dr Wilson, defend _your_ diagnosis."

"The hepatic porphyrias affect the nervous system and can result in abdominal pain, vomiting, acute neuropathy and hallucinations," Wilson replied.

"See? He does know what he's talking about," House said to his team. "Alright, let's find out what he's got. Lumbar puncture, an electromyography exam and a nerve conduction test for the Guillain-Barre. Take blood, urine and a stool sample and do a CBC. Test the blood for lead and mercury and the urine for mercury and arsenic. Test all three samples for porphyrin levels. And start giving him thiamine, 50mg intramuscularly daily."

Chase, Cameron and Foreman nodded and pushed their chairs back almost in unison. They trooped out of the conference room, talking amongst themselves.

"Well, they seem to have found you something interesting," Wilson said as he also stood.

"Hmm," House replied as he stared as his scribblings on the whiteboard. "I think they're missing something though."

"I'll leave to figure that out then," Wilson said with amusement. "And I'll let you know if I need you for that case I was talking about earlier."

House waved a dismissive hand, his concentration wholly on the whiteboard. Wilson shook his head with tolerant exasperation and headed for his own office.


	2. Chapter 2

Ah, here is Chapter 2 for you all

* * *

Chapter 2

Wilson sat at his desk and stared down at the file in his hands. The test results for Mark Carter, his sixteen-year-old lymphoma patient, had come back and they were definitely on the odd side. He closed the file and stood, heading for the door to the balcony. He walked along the balcony and peered into House's office, frowning when he saw that House was lying on the ground behind his desk, headphones on and eyes closed. He pushed the door open and walked in, moving to stand next to House's head. He waited patiently until House's eyes flickered open then he sat down, tossing the file on House's desk.

House pulled the headphones off. "Problems?"

"Interesting problems," Wilson replied. "But it looks like you have problems of your own."

"I think they're wrong," House said as he pushed himself to his feet and collapsed in his chair. He tossed the iPod and headphones onto the desk and picked up the file.

"Well, that's nothing unusual," Wilson observed as House read.

House frowned. "Your lymphoma patient has pneumonia and a kidney infection. What are these headaches he's having like?"

"Pretty severe," Wilson replied.

"He's obviously got a systemic infection of some kind," House said thoughtfully.

"Well, yes, that's obvious," Wilson replied. "But what kind? It's nothing standard or the tests would have picked it up."

House closed the file and tossed it onto his desk. He tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling for a moment. "Do you have the chest x-ray?"

"It's in my office," Wilson replied. He ducked out through the balcony door then returned with the x-ray. House grabbed it out of his hand and limped out into the conference room to view the film. He turned on the light source and peered at the image.

"Infiltrates and nodules," he muttered. "But the sputum test was inconclusive?"

"Not as such," Wilson replied. "They just couldn't identify the bacteria involved. The lab's working on it."

"Could be a fungus instead," House said.

"But he has a kidney infection as well," Wilson objected. "That would make a fungal infection as the source of the pneumonia unlikely."

"Unless he's got _two_ infections," House replied.

"Can we start with the simple options first?" Wilson said firmly. "If that doesn't work out, we'll go for the bizarre later."

"Let's get a CT of his chest," House said abruptly, pulling the x-ray off the light source. "And get a CT with contrast of his head."

"You have an idea," Wilson said.

"I have a suspicion," House corrected. "But I want to see the CT scans first."

"You never have been good at sharing," Wilson said with amusement as he took the x-ray. "They must have hated you in kindergarten."

"I like the looks of wonder and the exclamations about my brilliance that come when I apparently pull a diagnosis out of thin air. If Sherlock Holmes could do it, why can't I?" House replied with equal amusement. "And they loved me in kindergarten."

Wilson rolled his eyes. "I'll get those scans done." He headed for the door then paused. "Oh, I'll be late tonight. I have a meeting with my lawyer."

House hesitated in the act of going back to his office. "Julie being painful?"

"Well, she's not overly happy with either of us right now but she's not making things difficult with the _divorce_," Wilson replied. "Turns out she _was_ having an affair so she's got no grounds to complain about us." He paused. "I think she just doesn't like the idea that her husband left her for another man."

"That's got to be a blow to the feminine ego," House said smugly.

"Just don't wear that expression on your face if you happen to end up anywhere near her," Wilson said with a shake of his head. "Waving red rags in front of bulls is _not_ a good idea."

A smile flashed briefly across House's face and he continued on towards his office. "I think I'm safe waving this red rag, Julie would be classified as a cow after all."

Wilson covered his face briefly with one hand. "I'm not touching that statement," he muttered then beat a hasty retreat before House could contribute something more cutting.

House watched him go, amusement gleaming in his eyes, then he headed back into his office. He was sure his ducklings were wrong, he just couldn't figure exactly why he thought that. Each of them had come up with a plausible explanation and each could be right. There was just something about the list of symptoms that didn't sit right. He sighed as he grabbed his iPod and lowered himself back down to the floor. He was honest enough in the silence of his own mind to acknowledge the fact that he was overly tired and that this wasn't helping his thought processes. He wasn't unacquainted with insomnia but he'd never had it so regularly before and not even the comforting presence of Wilson in his bed was enough to enable him to sleep right through the night. And Wilson had only woken on about half of his sleepless nights so he wasn't exactly aware of the true extent of the problem.

He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly as Mick Jagger wailed about St Petersburg and Anastasia. He let the music float to the back of his mind and become the white noise that would drown out, at least temporarily, the never-ending throb of pain from his leg. He couldn't do much about the fatigue caused by his insomnia but knowing it was there would probably be enough to let him think around it. He was then free to concentrate on the case or, as it had suddenly become with Wilson's patient, _cases_.

* * *

He was still lying there when his team returned, armed with test results and looking decidedly unhappy. The three young doctors saw him lying behind his desk and exchanged glances. Cameron rolled her eyes and headed for the office, knocking twice on the door before opening it. She walked around House's desk and crouched down beside him, tapping him on the shoulder.

House opened his eyes and gave Cameron an irritated look. He pulled one of the earpieces out of his ear. "What?"

"We've got the test results back," she said.

House grunted and waved her away before pulling the other earpiece out. He turned the iPod off and tossed up onto his desk before slowly and painfully climbing to his feet. Once he was upright, he glared at Cameron even though she had only made an abortive move to help him and had stopped even that quickly enough. His eyes narrowed as he took in her expression and he glanced out into the conference room, a smirk breaking out on his face. He limped out into the conference room and faced his team as Cameron sat down.

"Well?" he said smugly.

The three doctors exchanged glances again.

"The electromyography exam and the nerve conduction study showed no myelin loss and his cerebrospinal fluid showed normal protein levels," Foreman said flatly.

"His CBC was normal and there was no sign of arsenic in his system," Chase reported. "He had low levels of both lead and mercury but way below dangerous levels."

"And his porphyrin levels were normal as well," Cameron finished.

"So it's not Guillain-Barre," House said, drawing a firm line through the words on the whiteboard. "And it's not heavy metal toxicity or porphyria." He paused. "What a shame. A vampire would at least have been interesting. So, it could still be thiamine deficiency. We won't know if the thiamine supplements are working for a few more days."

House fixed his gaze on Foreman and Chase and smirked. "So…you two got blown out of the water. Cameron's winning so far. What can you come up with now, assuming it's not beri-beri?"

The two men were silent for a moment then Chase frowned. "It…could be poliomyelitis. The early symptoms are flu-like which would explain the nausea and vomiting and it _does_ affect the central nervous system."

"Polio doesn't cause hallucinations though," Foreman objected. "Or vision problems. It causes muscle weakness."

"True but do you have a better idea?" House said as he wrote poliomyelitis on the whiteboard.

Foreman grimaced and sighed. "Actually I liked Chase's idea," he admittedly reluctantly. "Heavy metal toxicity."

"Really?" Chase said with surprise.

Foreman scowled. "Heavy metal toxicity fits the symptoms better than any other explanation. Either that or an alkaloid."

"See? Chase _can_ come up with a good idea from time to time," House said with mock-brightness, drawing an irritated look from Chase. "If it's not lead, mercury or arsenic, what else could it be?"

"Colchicine," Foreman said bluntly. "Thallium. Selenium. Any of those could produce the symptoms Andrew Watson is exhibiting."

"Well, some of them anyway," House said, considering the idea with a frown. "Hmm, you're starting to make sense…and so is Chase. Maybe I'm coming down with something."

He got glares from both Foreman and Chase this time. He ignored them as he limped back and forth in front of the whiteboard.

"Viral cultures for the poliomyelitis," he said. "And blood and urine tests for colchicine, selenium and thallium. Also find out if he's been taking hydralazine. Hydralazine toxicity could cause these symptoms as well."

The three doctors pushed back their chairs and headed out of the conference room. House didn't watch them go; he'd turned back to the white board and was contemplating the new avenues they were now investigating. He tapped the pen against the board then finally circled one of the options.

"Thallium toxicity?" Wilson said from the doorway, startling House.

"I'm going to get you a _bell_," House grumbled.

"That'd start some interesting rumours," Wilson replied. "_Thallium_ toxicity?"

"It's the best fit for the symptoms," House said as he limped towards his office, Wilson coming up beside him. "We'll know in a couple of days. If it _is_ thallium poisoning, he'll start losing his hair in the next few days."

"It's not going to kill him in the meantime?" Wilson asked.

House paused beside his desk then headed out onto the balcony. "Probably not."

House leaned on the balustrade and looked outwards, hanging his cane next to him. Wilson came up beside him on his right and leaned with his back to the view. He frowned as he got a good look at House's face in the daylight.

"Dammit!" he breathed. "When was the last time you got a decent night's sleep?"

House scowled and opened his mouth to give a scathing answer.

"Don't!" Wilson replied firmly before House could say anything. "Don't fob me off. Don't lie to me. Don't treat me like an idiot. You wanted this change in our relationship as much as I did but you don't get to have it all your own way. Now answer the question."

House looked away, his shoulders showing his tension clear as day. Wilson crossed his arms over his chest and waited impatiently.

Finally House grimaced. "Two weeks," he said stiffly.

"When you were in hospital? You last slept properly when you were in here as a patient two weeks ago?" Wilson asked, exasperation and worry tinting his voice.

House gave a short nod and scowled. "That's what I said. It wasn't _that_ difficult to understand, was it? I thought I was speaking English."

Wilson sighed and ran a hand down his face, ignoring the irritated answer he'd gotten. "I knew you were having trouble sleeping but I thought I'd woken up each time. Why didn't you say anything?"

"So you could _what_ precisely?" House snapped. "You know I don't like taking sleeping pills."

"Well, there _are_ other ways of getting back to sleep," Wilson said a tiny smile flickering around his lips. "But I was thinking more about solving the problem that's keeping you awake in the first place."

House scowled and his shoulders tensed again. He didn't want to talk about this; he didn't even really want to think about it. He couldn't quite work out why Armitage breaking into his apartment had set him so much on edge. Whether it was just simply the violation of his space and his privacy or whether it had more to do with what had actually happened after he and Wilson had got home. Or perhaps even both.

But it seemed that he wasn't going to be allowed the option of ignoring it. Wilson wanted to talk about it and House had a sneaking suspicion that the only way he could avoid this conversation would be to say something devastatingly cruel and while that would certainly mean that the conversation would be put aside, it would probably also mean that he would sleeping on his own for a while. This was why he usually avoided personal relationships; as Wilson had said, he couldn't have things all his own way. For this to work he did actually have to give something back and that was a situation that definitely had him outside his comfort zone. The only reason this relationship had a snowball's chance in hell of lasting was because it was Wilson and Wilson was the one person who actually knew when to back off and when to push. Something he'd learned through experience.

"I don't _know_ what the problem is," House admitted reluctantly.

"Except that it's got something to do with Armitage breaking in," Wilson stated.

He felt a certain amount of relief that House was actually talking about this. There were no guarantees with Greg House when it came to talking about personal problems; hell, it had taken a week of pain, detoxing and broken bones in his hand to get him to actually admit he was addicted to the Vicodin.

"Yes. No…maybe," House said, staring out at the view.

"Armitage is in prison and he's not going to be released any time soon, if ever. He's certainly not going to be released on bail before his court date," Wilson said logically. "The locks have been changed and we can look at installing a security system." He paused and considered what he wanted to say next; it was somewhat akin to sticking one's head into the lion's mouth but he thought he might as well throw the suggestion out there. "Have you thought about speaking to someone about this?"

"I _am_ speaking to someone," House said acidly. "I'm speaking to you."

"Well, true," Wilson said. "But I was thinking more about someone better qualified to deal with this."

House snorted, feeling the conversation edge slightly back into the more comfortable region of their usual bantering way of talking. "Who's better qualified to deal with _me_? You or some two-bit shrink with dubious qualifications from some college famous for producing dunce-like quacks?"

Wilson rolled his eyes and gave an exasperated sigh. There was a certain amount of truth in that question. Any counsellor that House went to see would inevitably veer away from the current insomnia and want to try and solve _all_ of House's not inconsiderable troubles. The problem with _that_ was House didn't really _want_ his problems solved and Wilson wasn't sure that they even _could_ be completely solved, particularly after all this time.

"That would work better if you actually _told_ me when you were having a problem," Wilson said flatly.

"You know about this one," House replied with a dismissive shrug.

"Only after I dragged it out of you," Wilson countered. "You didn't exactly volunteer the information."

"But I still told you," House said.

Wilson sighed again. That was true enough and House had even told him without _most_ of his usual evasions and misdirections. He doubted anyone else would have managed that much though it was possible Cuddy could have dragged the information out, kicking and screaming if necessary. He and Lisa Cuddy had the most success in dealing with House, though in two completely different ways.

"Yes, you did," Wilson admitted with reluctance.

It was House's turn to sigh and he shifted around so that his left hip was propped against the balustrade and he was facing Wilson.

"If I knew _why_ I couldn't sleep, I'd tell you," he said honestly.

Wilson stared at him for a long moment then nodded. "Will you wake me up the next time you can't sleep?"

House snorted. "Why?" he asked scornfully. "So that we can both be tired and cranky the next day?"

"You're always cranky," Wilson shot back.

"Exactly. So if _St Wilson_ starts acting cranky, people will start talking," House said with amusement.

Wilson rolled his eyes. "They're already doing that. Your ducklings are not the most discreet people on this earth." He paused and pretended to consider the matter. "Mind you, people have always talked about us; it's just that before they were wrong."

House snorted and one side of his mouth curled upwards. "Well then, we probably shouldn't add to it, should we?"

"I would rather you woke me up," Wilson insisted.

"Why?" House leered at his lover in a swift change of mood.

Wilson blushed and a grin slowly took up residence on his face. "Well, as I said before there _are_ other ways of getting back to sleep."

A large amount of the tension flowed out of House's shoulders and the leer turned into something a touch more heated and affectionate.

"Hmm, maybe that _would_ work," he said.

He reached out and grabbed Wilson's tie, pulling the younger man into a heated kiss. Wilson made a sound of protest then wrapped an arm around House, his other hand going out to the balustrade to steady them both. House let go of the tie and pulled Wilson tight against him, trusting the other man wouldn't let them fall.

The sound of someone clearing their throat had them pulling away from each other and House wavered momentarily until Wilson caught and steadied him. House grabbed his cane and gave Wilson an appreciative look before turning around to glare at whoever had interrupted them.

Lisa Cuddy was standing in the doorway of House's office with an expression of exasperation on her face that was warring with her obvious amusement.

"You two do realise there are some things that shouldn't be done on a balcony in front of offices with glass walls," she said as severely as she could manage. "I'm surprised you don't have more of an audience. People are always looking for a distraction in a hospital."

Wilson blushed and ducked his head, running a nervous hand through his hair. House just smirked.

"Did we _distract_ you enough?" he said smugly.

Cuddy aimed for amused condescension and managed to achieve it. "Dr House, what you do with or to Dr Wilson is your own affair. Personally I would prefer it if you kept your groping of each other to times and places that are more appropriate and perhaps more private and less work-related but that's not why I'm here. Right now you need to be down in the clinic."

"But I'm _working_," House said with mock-concern. "Two cases even. Very tricky, don't know _what's_ making them sick."

"Yes, I can see you're working _very_ hard," Cuddy said dryly, her gaze flicking between him and Wilson. "The clinic, Dr House. Now."

House shot a look at Wilson but was interrupted before he could say anything.

"And don't expect Dr Wilson to save you," Cuddy continued inexorably. "I believe he has patients of his own. In fact, I believe he has an appointment very soon."

Wilson glanced at his watch and gave a start. "Damn! Yes, I do."

Wilson turned towards his office then spun around and planted a warm kiss on House's mouth that promised they'd revisit this later then he disappeared into his office. House watched him go with a raised eyebrow then looked over at Cuddy with a smug expression.

Cuddy rolled her eyes. "The clinic, Dr House. There are patients waiting."

"And if they wait long enough they'll all get better on their own," House replied as he limped into his office.

"Perhaps they will but it's your _job_ to help that process along," Cuddy replied as she moved out of the door to let him pass. "Go."

"Yes, ma'am," House said with a sloppy salute as he headed for the door and his afternoon of torture.


	3. Chapter 3

Here is your next chapter!

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Chapter 3 

House escaped from the clinic just after five pm after an afternoon filled with coughing children and their stupid parents and idiots trying to get the rest of the day and hopefully tomorrow off work. He'd been thoroughly disappointed when neither his team nor Wilson had paged him with waiting test results that would free him from his drudgery.

He arrived back at his office to find his team sitting around the table in the conference room doing whatever it was they did when they were waiting for results. From what he could see, Cameron was going through his mail, Chase was doing yet another crossword and Foreman was reading a medical journal. He limped into his office drawing the momentary attention of all three. When they went back to their respective diversions, House's questions about results and patients were answered.

He opened the door to the balcony and limped out, peering around to see if Wilson was in. He was disappointed to find the other man's office dark and empty then remembered that Wilson was meeting with his lawyer this evening. He scowled then turned and packed his bag. Neither of his patients was in a life-threatening condition right now and the last thing he wanted to do after an afternoon in the clinic was spend more time here. He limped out into the conference room and almost smirked when his team suddenly dropped what they were doing and looked at him expectantly.

"Very good," he congratulated them mockingly. "Do you balance balls on your noses and clap your flippers together? Go home. The lab won't deliver results after five and the nurses will page you if anything goes wrong."

With that he limped out of the conference room and headed for the lifts without waiting to see their responses. He and Wilson had taken to driving in together, mostly in his car because Wilson liked it better and so did he for that matter. They used Wilson's car this morning but he knew Wilson would have taken a taxi to his lawyer's office and left the car for him. He stopped off at their favourite Chinese place on his way home for take out, buying enough for both of them since he doubted Wilson would be eating at his meeting. When he got home, he grabbed a beer and the food and settled in on the couch, turning the TV on and channel surfing to find something interesting.

He had just settled on watching a documentary on ancient Egypt when he heard a key in the lock. He tensed momentarily before scowling at himself. Wilson was the only other person to have a key to the door ergo the sound of a key in the lock could only be him. He glanced around briefly when the door opened then was forced to turn back for a better look. Wilson looked drawn and exhausted as he let his bag drop to the floor and hung up his jacket.

House considered his options then decided on something neutral. "That bad?"

Wilson walked over and dropped down on the couch next to House. He sighed and let his head drop onto the back of the couch. "Not really. Just…exhausting. Remind me not to get married again; the divorces are starting to kill me."

House snorted as he got to his feet and limped towards the kitchen. He grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge and limped back to the couch. Wilson accepted the beer with a weak smile and House sat down again.

"If you get married again then I probably won't be around to tell you not to," he said sourly.

Wilson was silent at that then he let one hand drift over to rest on House's left leg. "Guess I'm not getting married again then."

House felt something unwind inside his chest at that.

"It's honestly more tiring being polite to each other than it is when we were arguing," Wilson continued, his eyes closing and his head drifting down onto House's shoulder.

House jerked his shoulder. "Don't do that. You fall asleep there, we'll _both_ regret it."

Wilson pulled himself upright and put the beer down in the table. "I should eat," he said in an uninterested tone.

"I got Chinese," House said, gesturing absently to the boxes on the table in front of them. "Might be cold though."

Wilson shrugged and picked through the food for several minutes before putting it back down and scrubbing his face with one hand.

"I'm going to have a shower and go to bed," he said with a sigh. "'M sorry."

"You're always boring when you've been dealing with Julie," House said with equanimity.

Wilson didn't react but just pushed himself off the couch and headed for the bedroom. House finished the last of his beer then got up and limped over to the piano. He played softly as he heard the shower start and then eventually stop. He always hated what divorces did to Wilson; the man tried so hard to be polite no matter what the circumstances were or how his almost-ex-wives reacted and it always ripped something to shreds inside him.

House found himself modulating into 'Cry Me A River' and quickly pulled his hands away from the keyboard. This was the other problem with Wilson's divorces. They always seemed to bleed over. Wilson rarely let anyone other than House see how deeply he was affected by the destruction of his latest marriage and House always found himself getting ridiculously maudlin in response no matter how much he tried to avoid it.

He grabbed his cane and started clearing up the remains of dinner, putting the boxes of food in the fridge and tossing the beer bottles in the bin. He turned out the lights and headed for the bedroom. Wilson was lying on his side in the bed, facing away, though the tenor of his breathing indicated he was still awake. House limped into the bathroom before getting undressed and into bed. He swallowed a pill and put the bottle on the bedside table.

The rattling of the pills seemed to spark something in Wilson. He turned over and propped himself up on one elbow.

"You take too many of those," he said flatly.

"Julie's made you miserable so now you feel the need to make _me_ miserable," House said in what was almost a snarl. "A flow-on effect. How delightful."

Wilson sighed and let his head drop back onto the pillow. "I'm…not trying to make you miserable. I was just stating a fact. For me not to get married again, you need to be around. Keep taking those at the rate you do and…" He paused. "I want you to be around."

"If I haven't overdosed by now, I'm hardly likely to get the urge tomorrow," House replied dismissively.

"Don't be obtuse," Wilson snapped, irritation suddenly flaring. "You know as well as I do that prolonged use of Vicodin can cause liver damage. And they don't do liver transplants on drug addicts."

"Why are we doing this now?" House snarled. "You feel you have to spread the pain?"

The irritation flowed out of Wilson as suddenly as it had flared and he flung an arm over his eyes. "You _know_ why we're doing this," he said softly. "Will you just _try_ and cut down? _Please_?"

The soft entreaty hit House harder than anything caustic Cuddy or Foreman had ever said about his addiction and he sucked in a quick breath.

"Contrary to popular opinion, I _like_ my job," he said evenly. "Well…I like it when it's interesting. I like being able to _do_ my job. We've been through this before."

"I know." The almost whispered response sounded defeated and tired.

House winced at his lover's tone but couldn't find anything else to say. They lay there in silence for a while then Wilson rolled over and slid one hand onto House's stomach. House felt himself relax and he wordlessly encouraged the other man closer. The sigh from Wilson was a satisfied one this time and he curled up around House, taking care even though half-asleep not to jar the older man's leg. House wrapped one arm around Wilson and stared at the ceiling until sleep overtook him.

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There is more to this chapter but it goes beyond what is permitted here. It's probably a hard R, more likely NC-17, and it can be read in full at my writing LJ - the address should be in my user info. Otherwise search for it under "swordkat". 


	4. Chapter 4

Hope you enjoy this - I think we're getting near the end!

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Chapter 4

House was woken the next morning by the sound of his alarm going off, something that hadn't happened for at least two weeks. He reached out with one arm and switched it off before looking down at Wilson. His lover was just opening his eyes and Wilson gave him a small smile.

"I see my insomnia cure works."

House rolled over and sat on the side of the bed. "It'll do," he said, his amusement clear.

He glanced over at the pill bottle sitting on the bedside table as he reached down to pick his cane up from the floor. He'd made something of a promise to Wilson the previous night and he felt that he probably should try and keep it as much as he could. But since he always took one when he got up, he didn't change that particular routine this morning.

As he limped towards the bathroom, he heard Wilson get up and head out of the bedroom. He started the shower and climbed in, quickly washing himself then standing under the hot water with his hands braced against the tiled wall, weight tilted onto his good leg and the water pounding on the back of his neck and shoulders. Wilson's worry over his addiction and the promise he'd made in response to that was churning through his mind. In part he was irritated that he'd allowed himself to be manipulated in such a way except that he knew that it hadn't been done with any kind of malicious intent. It _was_ a manipulation, he doubted even Wilson would deny that, but it was a manipulation designed to keep him alive and well. Something which Wilson now had a vested interest in.

House sighed and closed his eyes. The irritation wasn't actually a large part of what he felt. The problem was he wasn't sure he wanted to define what he felt. After the infarction and Stacy's arrogant, albeit well-meaning, disregard of his wishes, he hadn't wanted to let _anyone_ close to him. Wilson had rather stubbornly refused to be pushed away and Lisa Cuddy had done much the same, though the two had very different reasons for ignoring his attempts at alienation.

He'd never really examined his feelings for Wilson either before _or_ after the infarction. Wilson was his friend, for reasons that House didn't really understand but seemed to make some kind of sense to Wilson. He'd acknowledged the other man's attractiveness, both physical and otherwise, when they'd first met but had then promptly tucked those thoughts away in a box. Wilson had been married and he'd met Stacy shortly afterwards. He had no reason to think that Wilson had any interest in men and therefore no reason to reveal his own bisexuality. But when Wilson had stuck around after the infarction, to the detriment of his own marriage, House had on occasion taken those thoughts out of their box and examined them. He'd always tucked them away again with a sense of frustration and irritation until he became aware of the imminent failure of Wilson's marriage to Julie and the other man's almost constant regard. He didn't _object_ to Wilson watching him all the time; when you were in your mid-forties, greying, crippled and with an abrasive personality to boot, you generally took whatever appreciation you could get. But the constant regard _had_ encouraged him to make the move that he had.

Of course, now he had to deal with the _other_ side of having made that move. The fact that Wilson _did_ care about him, quite likely more than just _cared_ if his half-spoken statement last night was any indication. And if House was honest with himself, which he did generally _try_ to be as much as possible, he was more than a little…afraid of actually finding out how Wilson felt about him or of admitting how he felt about Wilson. He'd loved Stacy after all and look how that had ended up. While there was a part of him that could understand intellectually why she'd done what she'd done, he _had_ made his wishes plain to her and her disregard of those wishes had felt like a betrayal of his trust and love for her. It had also shattered that relationship beyond repair…

He heard the bathroom door open then the door to the shower opened and Wilson climbed in.

"You're thinking so loudly I could almost hear you in the kitchen," Wilson said ruefully as picked up the soap.

House turned around and leaned against the wall of the shower. "Would you have made the same decision that Stacy did?" he asked abruptly.

Wilson looked at him with surprise, water running down one shoulder. "What brought this on?"

"Just answer the question," House said with a frown.

Wilson continued washing himself though much slower than before as he thought back to those horrible days.

"I don't know," he said absently. "You went into cardiac arrest, you were clinically dead for over a minute, you were in a medically induced coma and all indications were that the bypass and restoration of blood flow to the damaged muscle tissue weren't working. We all knew you wouldn't accept amputation but we all knew that if you went into cardiac arrest again we probably wouldn't be able to get you back. When Cuddy came up with the idea of removing the damaged tissue, I have to admit I thought it would be a good idea."

His eyes drifted down to the ruin of House's right thigh. He didn't wince or look away sadly, he just stared at it with something that could have been regret.

"Then she said you'd probably be left with a permanent limp, the possibility of reperfusion injury and maybe other side effects and I wasn't so sure anymore," Wilson continued. He looked up at House. "I don't know what I would have done, House. I remember being glad I didn't have to make the decision which was probably a bit cowardly of me." He sighed and put the soap down. "House…Greg, I honestly think I would have made the same decision as Stacy. It didn't look like the bypass was working and given the choice of having you live or die, I'll take the former. Maybe that's selfish of me but none of us anticipated the kind of pain you'd end up with." He paused again. "But I think even if I had known that I'd have made the same decision. I…"

Wilson looked like he wanted to say something else but instead fell silent and finished rinsing off the soap.

"Perhaps the only thing I would have done differently would have been to discuss the possibility with you before they put you in the coma," Wilson said over the sound of running water. "They probably wouldn't have accepted any decision you made in the circumstances, considering the amount of pain you were in and the drugs you were on, but I would have wanted you to know what we most likely going to end up having to do. To give you _some_ time, however little, to prepare yourself. To not spring such a…huge change on you without any warning."

Wilson looked over at House and almost shivered at the closed expression on the older man's face. He wasn't sure what had prompted the question but he had decided very quickly not to lie.

House considered Wilson's answer and had to appreciate his honesty, even though the answer wasn't exactly what he wanted to hear. It was the last part that made him once again appreciate his lover because that was exactly what had made it so hard when he woke up. That it had been done without his knowledge and he'd just woken up to find his thigh gouged apart and the consequences left for him to accept as best as he could. He looked over at Wilson and was surprised at the slightly apprehensive expression on the younger man's face. Then he realised that for Wilson the question had come completely out of the blue with no apparent cause.

He braced himself against the tiled wall of the shower until he was sure of his footing then he limped the few steps it took to back Wilson against the opposite wall. He planted his hands on either side of Wilson's shoulders and shifted most of his weight onto his good leg. He then leaned forward and kissed Wilson as warmly as he could. After a couple of seconds of surprise, he felt Wilson's arms come up, partly to embrace him and partly to steady him and then Wilson was returning the kiss. When they broke apart, House rested his forehead against Wilson's and closed his eyes.

"Just thinking," he said in response to Wilson's unspoken question.

"So I gathered," Wilson replied, sounding bemused.

Just then the water started to cool and the two men carefully got out of the shower. They dried off and dressed without much conversation then headed out to the kitchen for breakfast.

As they drove into the hospital in the Corvette, Wilson looked over at House.

"Are you going to tell me what prompted that question?" he asked curiously.

House was silent, his eyes on the road. "Not right now."

Wilson nodded, not entirely happy with that answer but realising that he'd have to accept it for now. "I should have those scans for you this morning," he said instead.

"Good," House replied as they drove into the hospital carpark.

Once he'd parked the car, they climbed out and headed inside, only separating when they reached their respective offices. Wilson had long learned to recognise House's moods; this odd, silent brooding actually didn't occur too often. While House often brooded over medical problems, that was different from this particular mood. Wilson knew the only way of dealing with it was to give the other man time and space to think through whatever was bothering him.

House caught Wilson's arm before he could go into his office. "Your solution worked by the way," he said abruptly. "I feel better."

Wilson blinked then smiled. "Good. It was honestly no trouble at all."

House snorted with amusement at that then he turned and headed for his own office. Wilson watched him go then walked into his office; he had some scans to chase down.

House pushed his turbulent thoughts into the back of his mind and limped out into the conference room where his team were drinking their first cups of coffee and talking quietly. They looked up when he walked in and Cameron got to her feet and poured him a cup of coffee. She hesitated only briefly when she walked over to hand it to him and he saw her gaze drop to his throat then take on a slightly embarrassed, slightly betrayed tinge.

House ignored her reaction to Wilson's enthusiasm the previous night and turned to Foreman and Chase. "Have those test results come back yet?"

"I called when I got in," Foreman said, looking disgruntled. "We should have them within the hour."

"Have his symptoms worsened?" House asked as he drank his coffee.

Chase nodded. "He's starting to get very confused about where he is and what's happening and he's got a rash."

House nodded. "Anything else?"

"No. Should there be?" Chase asked. "You look like you know what's wrong with him."

"What gave you that idea?" House said archly.

"The big circle around thallium toxicity on the whiteboard," Chase said promptly and with a smile.

House snorted then looked up when Wilson walked in.

"The scans," Wilson said as he set them up to be viewed.

House limped over with his ducklings trailing curiously behind him.

"Damn!" Wilson breathed as he saw the CT scan of the brain.

"Cerebral abscesses," House said without surprise. "No empyema in the chest scan. Good."

Wilson closed his eyes and ran a hand down his face. "Systemic infections, headaches caused by cerebral abscesses. It's not a fungal infection, it's not further malignancy. Damn! It's Nocardiosis, isn't it?" he said, sounding chagrined. "I didn't even _consider_ that."

"Why should you?" House replied. "He's been in hospital for the last four weeks. Nocardia is a bacteria that lives in the soil. The incidence even among immunocompromised patients is sporadic at best. However the question of how he got it is one we'll have to answer quickly."

"Why?" Foreman asked.

"Because if he picked it up from somewhere in the hospital gardens then that means we have a big problem," Wilson replied. "Everybody, not just the patients, would be at risk of at least cutaneous nocardiosis and any of the immunocompromised patients would also be at greater risk of the disseminated infection."

"He'll need high intravenous doses of a sulfa-based antibiotic," House said as he looked at the scans. "Bactrim would be the best or Septa. Make sure the trimethoprim component is at least 160mg. He may need surgery to drain those abscesses as well but see how he responds to the antibiotics first. And he'll need ongoing antibiotic therapy." He paused. "Presuming he survives the cancer."

Wilson grimaced and nodded. "Anything else? You'd be more up-to-date on this than me."

"Better do an echocardiogram to rule out vegetations," House said as he peered at the chest CT. "Also get a CT and sonographic exam of his abdomen and pelvic area. You'll need to check for intra-abdominal, hepatic, splenic or renal abscesses as well." He turned and looked at his team. "While we're waiting for _our_ results, you lot can keep yourselves busy. Cameron, go and speak to…" He looked at Wilson.

"Mark Carter," Wilson supplied with amusement.

"Go and speak to Mr Carter and find out where he's been lately," House continued. "Chase, you and Foreman can start testing the soil in the gardens. Start with the outside area at the cafeteria and the areas where the patients most often congregate. You might want to speak to the nurses in Oncology and find out if there's any spot preferred by their patients. And get the lab to find out which Nocardia strain we're dealing with."

The three doctors nodded with a hint of world-weariness. Chase and Foreman immediately headed out to gather the equipment they'd need while Wilson spoke to Cameron for a few minutes. After she'd left Wilson looked over at House.

"You know, I could have spoken to Mark," he said.

"Just keeping them busy," House replied. "They were starting to annoy me."

Wilson chuckled though he sobered when he looked back at the scans. "I don't know why I didn't consider Nocardia as a source for the pneumonia, particularly when all the usual suspects came back negative."

House scowled. "As I said before, why would you? Infection by Nocardia is rare and he's been in hospital and presumably away from potential sources of infection for four weeks."

"Yes, I suppose you're right," Wilson muttered. "I'd better go and get things started with his treatment."

"You should have warned me," House said suddenly as Wilson turned to go.

"About what?" Wilson replied blankly.

House gestured towards his neck and Wilson looked at it for a moment then grinned.

"Cameron got all…_thingy_ about it," House said with an irritated look.

"Good," Wilson said with a slightly possessive air and House raised an eyebrow at him.

Wilson glanced over his shoulder at the corridor then walked over and pressed himself against House. "Mine," he said simply before giving House a brief, possessive kiss.

House raised the other eyebrow. "This is a new side of you." He paused then let a small smile curl his lips. "I think I like it. However, if you start going cavemen on me, I'm throwing you over for Chase."

"I think that's an empty threat. He'd annoy you too much," Wilson said as he headed for the door again. "But I'll keep it in mind."

"Do that," House growled.

He watched the younger man leave with an intrigued look. He had indeed liked the sudden fit of possessiveness that Wilson had displayed. At its most basic it was flattering that someone felt _that_ way about him but it was also rather amusing to see _Wilson _react like that. He wondered what kind of reaction they'd get from Cameron if Wilson did that in front of her. He considered that highly entertaining thought for a moment then tried to work out a few possible scenarios as he headed for his office and his Gameboy.

He sat down in his chair and stretched his legs out in front of him, his cane propped against the desk, as he half-heartedly tried to kill Martians…or some kind of critter at least. But the events of the previous night and this morning kept coming back to him and distracting him.

There was a fairly large part of his brain that just wanted to run away from all of this…so to speak, to say cruel things until he'd even driven Wilson away, to crawl back into his self-imposed solitariness where everything was safe and predictable, to go back to a life where there was no risk of being betrayed or hurt again.

The sound of an explosion from the Gameboy drew his attention and he grimaced before tossing the machine onto the desk. He swivelled his chair around until he was facing the windows and stared out at the view.

But driving everyone away led to the path of loneliness and he'd had enough of that over the last five years to last him a lifetime. While it was true most people annoyed him, he didn't want to spend all of his life alone. So there was his choice, let Wilson in even further and risk being hurt or betrayed again or be lonely. He sighed and tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling. Not much of a choice really.

He almost absently reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out his bottle of pills. He'd just popped the lid off when he paused and looked down at what he was doing. He frowned and rattled the pills slightly. Maybe Wilson had a point; he'd done that so absently he'd almost not been aware of his own actions. He eyed the pills suspiciously for a moment then very firmly put the lid back on. His leg wasn't hurting so much that he couldn't wait a bit longer.

He turned his chair back to the desk and picked up the Gameboy again. While he certainly hadn't dealt with everything the previous night had roused in his mind, he'd settled enough to get his concentration back where it ought to be.

He'd just made it to level eight when Foreman pushed the door open.

"We've got the test results back," he announced.

House sighed. "Damn. Just when I was getting somewhere," he muttered.

He turned the Gameboy off and tossed it on the desk. He grabbed his cane and levered himself to his feet, drawing in a deep and somewhat surprised breath when his leg flared more than usual. He paused, his hand clenching around the head of the cane, as he waited for the pain to die down slightly. This was the downside of keeping his promise to Wilson. Once the pain settled to something approximating its usual level, he limped towards the door where Foreman was watching him with a thoughtful frown.

"Planning on standing there all day?" he asked abrasively. "'Cause I'm going to find it a little difficult to work if you are."

Foreman blinked then quickly moved out of the way. "There's more than one door to your office," he said, sounding half-hearted as though he was trying to work out what was going on.

House ignored him and limped out into the conference room. "So what do the results say?"

"Thallium poisoning," Chase reported, handing him the file.

House flipped open the file. "I guess that means Foreman wins."

"Hey, I came up with heavy metal toxicity first," Chase said indignantly.

"Yeah but you abandoned it when your first choices didn't pan out," House replied. "Foreman picked thallium so he wins."

Chase gave House an irritated look as Foreman smirked.

"Okay," House said as he snapped the file shut. "Take him off the thiamine. He doesn't need it. Now who can tell me the treatment for thallium poisoning?"

"I'm tipping that standard chelation therapy for heavy metal poisoning isn't the answer," Foreman said as he thought.

"Correct," House said with asperity. "Now do you know the answer?" He waited for a minute then rolled his eyes. "None of you bothered to look it up? How long have you been working for me?" He tossed the file onto the table. "It's an alternate form of chelation therapy. Use Prussian blue to bind to the thallium. He'll probably need repeated doses."

"Prussian blue?" Cameron said dubiously. "Isn't that a dye of some kind?"

"Is that even a pharmaceutical agent?" Chase said, equally dubiously.

"I think they use it in the lab," Foreman said. "Isn't there something else we can use?"

"Well, you could be _boring_ and use activated charcoal," House replied. "But Prussian blue is more effective and considering his symptoms what say we go for the effective over the easy? Go down to the lab and ask them if you can use their Prussian blue." He paused and frowned. "Also, start him on dialysis. I don't know exactly how much it'll help but it certainly won't hurt."

"How much of the Prussian blue do we give him?" Foreman asked. "Same dosage as activated charcoal?"

"I should make you look it up except the patient shouldn't pay for your laziness," House growled. "250 mg/kg, orally, four times a day."

The three doctors nodded and headed for the door.

"And when you get back I want to know what's happening with our Nocardiosis patient," House called after them.


	5. Chapter 5

Here is the next chapter. The next few chapters may be a little slower than normal. It's November and of course that means NaNoWriMo. I'm doing quite well so far and have been mostly concentrating on my NaNoNovel but don't despair - I like to procrastinate on NaNo by writing fanfic! grins

* * *

Chapter 5 

House waited until his ducklings were out of sight then slumped heavily on his cane. While the pain from his leg had initially settled down to something near its normal level, every minute he'd spent on his feet since then had caused it to gradually increase. He fumbled the pill bottle out of his pocket then hesitated momentarily before pulling the lid off. He'd waited. He'd done what Wilson wanted and _not_ taken one earlier. But now he _needed_ one and that was what he'd promised. He tipped a pill out into his hand and swallowed it. He jammed the lid back onto the bottle and shoved it back into his pocket before limping back into his office and collapsing into his chair.

He closed his eyes and concentrated on keeping his breathing even while he waited for the Vicodin to kick in. He leaned forward and rested his forehead on the handle of his cane and wondered why the hell he was doing this.

"House?" Wilson's voice sounded concerned and it seemed the answer to his question had arrived.

House didn't move; the Vicodin still hadn't quite taken effect. "I waited," he said, his voice sounding slightly muffled.

Silence greeted this statement then he heard Wilson walk over. The younger man leaned against the desk and gently ran a hand through House's hair.

"I didn't mean to wait _this_ long," he said, both guilt and pride tinging his voice. "I wanted you to cut down, not detox completely."

"Didn't think it was this long," House replied, starting to relax as both the Vicodin and Wilson's petting took effect. He glanced down at his watch and snorted. "Longer than I thought." Then several things he noticed in the past fell into place along with what Wilson had just said and he stiffened and pulled away from the other man's hand, sitting up suddenly. "The bet. That was _your_ idea," he said bluntly, testing whether his theory was correct.

Wilson gave a start and the guilty expression that ran across his face was answer enough.

"Why?" House demanded, feeling anger and betrayal creep up on him.

Wilson ran a hand through his own hair. "Because I wanted you to actually admit to yourself that you were addicted," he said sharply. "And god knows nothing else seemed to be working. I knew you wouldn't take the bet seriously from me, there was nothing I could offer you as bait at that time, but you would if Cuddy offered the time off." He sighed and looked chagrined and guilty. "I didn't think you'd actually break your own hand and to be honest, I nearly called it off then. I didn't think you'd be so damn stubborn."

House got to his feet awkwardly then pushed roughly past Wilson and out the door. Wilson ran a hand down his face and watched his lover limp away. He debated whether or not to follow and try and talk with House but eventually leaned back on the desk and drew in a deep breath. He let it out slowly; there wasn't much point trying to talk to House now. He'd just get sprayed with about six different kinds of vitriol. It would be better to wait until House had had a chance to calm down a bit.

In spite of that thought, he stayed in the office for over fifteen minutes to see if House would return but finally he pushed himself off the desk and made his way rather heavily back to his own office. He'd never intended for House to find out about the origins of that bet in this manner. In fact he wasn't even sure he ever intended for House to find out about it at all. The consequences both for House and the patient he'd been treating at the time had nearly been disastrous. And heaven knows House's team hadn't enjoyed it very much either. The fact that it had _worked_, at least in part, didn't quite make up for that.

He all but fell down into his chair, looking around with surprise and some hope when the door opened again. The hope faded when Lisa Cuddy walked in and trepidation replaced it when he saw her expression.

"The nurse at the front desk at the clinic just called me. He's just arrived and has apparently already started terrorising the patients," she said abruptly. "While I'm…pleased to see him there without having to drag him kicking and screaming _and_ without him actually being on the roster, I'd prefer it if he was being at least marginally pleasant."

"I'm the last person he wants to see right now," Wilson replied heavily in response to her unspoken question of 'so what are you going to do about this?' "He found out about the bet."

Cuddy closed her eyes for a moment. "What are you going to do? What is _he_ going to do?"

"I don't know," Wilson replied, a little helplessly. "On both counts. I think the best thing _I_ can do is let him work this out for himself. I'm sorry about the patients in the clinic but if I go down there I'm probably only going to make it worse." He gave a weak smile. "Look on the bright side. In this kind of mood, he's likely to clear the waiting room in record time…in one way or another."

Cuddy walked over and sat down. "I thought this…thing between the two of you was working?"

"It is," Wilson insisted, staring at the top of his spotless desk. "But we had a couple of conversations last night and this morning that have got him…I don't know…brooding, I suppose." He paused then looked over at Cuddy. "This morning he asked me if I would have made the same decision Stacy did about his leg."

Cuddy looked startled and a hint of guilt wandered across her face. "I thought he didn't talk about what happened."

"He doesn't usually," Wilson said with a shrug. "Unless it's obliquely like he did with the diagnostics class or occasional references with you or me. I don't know what prompted the question. I can usually figure out what's going on in his head but sometimes he goes beyond even _my_ understanding. Contrary to popular belief, I don't actually have the House decoder ring. I've just known him longer and better than most. If I had to guess, it's got something to do with the _other_ thing we talked about."

"Which was?" Cuddy prompted.

"His addiction," Wilson said bluntly. "I asked him to cut down. He said he'd try."

Cuddy looked surprised and relieved. "He did?"

Wilson nodded. "It's probably partially responsible for his mood right now. He'd actually waited until he genuinely needed one but I think he might have got distracted and waited a bit _too_ long. He'd only just taken a pill and was waiting for it to take effect when I came in. I didn't say much but it was enough for him to put two and two together."

"And you're a terrible liar when you're surprised," Cuddy said with a sympathetic look. "He left you in one piece I see."

"He didn't say much at all," Wilson admitted. "Just asked me why then stormed out after I answered. I didn't expect him to go to the clinic."

Cuddy sighed. "Alright. I'll…talk with the nurses and the other doctors in the clinic and see if we can't limit the fallout." She stood and headed for the door then paused with one hand on the handle. "Normally I'd give a pretty speech about keeping your personal lives out of the hospital but I know that with House that's probably not much of an option. Just…try and sort this out. Please?"

She turned and left and Wilson slumped back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. He smoothed it back down and looked around for something to distract himself, eventually deciding that he would do his rounds a little earlier than usual.

* * *

When Wilson returned to his office, he was surprised, pleased and just a fraction apprehensive to find House sitting in one of the chairs, reading one of his patient files. He plucked the file out of House's hands with amused exasperation and put it down on the desk with the others he was holding. 

"I heard you were in the clinic?" he said mildly.

"Did someone tattle to Mommy?" House replied sardonically. "And she went running to you?"

"I think the nurses were afraid you were going euthanize a few of the patients," Wilson said blandly.

"Then I'm surprised you _didn't_ make an appearance."

Wilson hesitated. "I…didn't think you'd appreciate seeing me for a while."

House tapped his cane against the floor a few times. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I figured I'd done enough damage," Wilson said with a sigh. "You broke your own _hand_, House. You pissed off the father of your patient so much that he punched you. You actually got _Foreman_ so concerned in his own unique way that he went and wrote out a prescription for you and we both know _his_ opinion of drug addicts."

"I made the decision to take the bet," House said, sounding annoyed. "Nothing that happened afterwards is your fault. You said it yourself. I was stubborn. It was _my_ choice."

"Because _I_ talked Cuddy into goading you enough to _take_ the bet," Wilson replied guiltily.

"It was still my choice," House said. "Now are you coming to lunch or not? Though if you plan on keeping up the guilt thing, you'd better say not."

"Lunch sounds good," Wilson said with relief then he paused. "You're not angry?"

"I was, now I'm not," House said as he got to his feet. "You had your reasons. They sound plausible enough."

"I…see," Wilson said as he joined House. This wasn't quite what he was expecting.

House snorted. "Everybody lies. Why would I expect you to be any different? At least you're lying for half-decent reasons and not stupid ones." He shrugged. "Besides you achieved the result you were after."

"I'm just not sure it was worth it," Wilson said softly.

House paused then pushed Wilson up against the closed door. He plastered himself against the younger man and kissed him. Wilson was still for a moment then, once he'd gotten over his surprise, he returned the kiss. When they broke apart, they were both breathing rapidly and Wilson's hands were resting on House's hips. House brought his free hand up and caressed Wilson's cheek, something that made Wilson look briefly startled then hope flared momentarily.

"It was worth it," House said with blunt honesty. "You're right. I'm addicted. I take too many and not always for good reasons. I made my promise, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did," Wilson said through a tight throat. He swallowed hard and wondered if he was about to make a mistake. "You…" he hesitated then plunged on in as close to a matter-of-fact tone as he could manage. "You know I love you, don't you?"

House flinched and looked away and Wilson quickly brought one hand up and turned the older man's head back.

"Don't look away," he demanded, looking into House's troubled eyes. "Talk to me. Did you not want to hear that? Are you not _ready_ to hear it? What?"

House was silent as he looked at Wilson. "Last person who loved me did _this_ to me," he said roughly, gesturing towards his leg.

Now all of a sudden the question House had asked this morning started to make sense to Wilson. Stacy was the last person to tell House that she loved him and was also the last person House had loved. And she'd gone against his wishes, something he'd seen as a betrayal. That she'd done it to save his life was beside the point. She hadn't discussed it with him, she hadn't tried to talk him into it, she hadn't given him any warning, she hadn't even had Cuddy explain the procedure to him. She'd just deliberately waited until he was incapable of arguing or saying no and had it done.

"I would have done the same thing," Wilson replied.

"You would have told me first," House countered.

"Yes," Wilson said simply.

Silence fell between them for a moment though neither man moved.

"Did you tell your wives that too?" House said suddenly and Wilson saw cynicism creeping across his face.

"Yes," he replied openly, knowing which 'that' House was referring to. "And I suppose I meant it in some way. It sounds trite but it's different this time. It _feels_ different." He paused and looked away for a moment then looked straight into House's eyes. "I'm not going to cheat on you. I'm not going to leave you. We're going to get annoyed at each other. We're going to argue and some days we're probably not going to like each other that much. You know that."

House snorted and a hint of amusement crept into his eyes. "Who says I like you now?"

Wilson relaxed a fraction and grinned. "I don't know…last night was pretty convincing."

A smile quirked House's lips. "Mmm, you may be right."

Wilson's grin faded slightly and he gave House a pensive look. House saw the look and was fairly sure he understood it.

"Give me time," he said quietly. "I'm not…uncomfortable with what you said."

Wilson nodded and curled a hand around the back of House's neck, pulling him for a light kiss. "Lunch then?" he said after the kiss ended.

A wry smile pulled at House's lips. "You're paying."

Wilson rolled his eyes as House stepped back. "Don't I always?" he said dryly as he opened the door.

"Unfortunately no," House said as he walked through the door. "Sometimes you're incredibly lax and selfish and make me pay."

"Ah yes, because you're actually poor and struggling to make ends meet," Wilson replied dryly as they headed for the lifts.

"Hey, you're the one on the board," House countered. "I'm merely a Department Head."

"With tenure."

"Ah, yes," House said smugly. "Let's not forget the tenure."

"How could we? You made such a point of it when Vogler was here."

"Pity it didn't impress him," House replied as Wilson pushed the button to summon the lift.

"Not much about you did," Wilson said with a tiny smile.

House pretended to look hurt. "He just couldn't appreciate my many charms."

"Which charms were those?" Wilson said dryly as the lift arrived and they walked in.

House looked scandalised then gave an evil smirk as he waited for the doors to close.

"You seemed to find my charms quite tangible last night," he said archly then smirked again when Wilson blushed slightly.

Wilson swallowed around the sudden heated memory that flared at House's words. "Somehow I can't see you wanting Vogler to appreciate _those_ charms."

House's eyes widened and he affected a shudder. "Now that _is_ a thought that's going to fester. I may need to get it _lanced_." He leered at Wilson. "Want to help with that, doctor?"

Wilson's breath caught at the images that conjured but his answer was interrupted by the lift doors opening. House limped out with a self-satisfied smirk on his face and Wilson swallowed hard before following.

"You enjoy doing that, don't you?" Wilson said with exasperation, a blush staining his cheeks.

"You're too easy to fluster," House replied with amusement. "Cuddy wouldn't have reacted to that except to slap me down."

"Well, you haven't being doing _that_ with Cuddy," Wilson countered. "She's got nothing to react to."

"Well, that and the fact that by now I doubt there's anything I could say that would shock her," House replied with a flash of a grin as they grabbed sandwiches and drinks.

"I'm sure you could if you tried," Wilson replied in a wry tone. He put down his sandwich and coffee to pay for the lunches then grabbed House's coffee along with his own food.

House shot him a mildly irritated look for the solicitude but didn't protest and they made their way to their normal table outside. They sat down and House stared at the gardens around them intently.

"Leave it," Wilson said warningly, prodding House's left foot with his own foot. "Your ducklings will find you when they get the results of the tests for the Nocardia. Staring at the dirt isn't going to give you any answers."

"One of these days you're going to do that to the wrong foot then there'll be trouble," House said with exasperation. "Besides it can't be in the hospital gardens. We'd be seeing more people with signs of infection, both cutaneous and disseminated."

"I would _never_ hit the wrong foot," Wilson said flatly. "And stop thinking about it. You'll know the answer soon enough."

House looked askance at Wilson. "Me, stop thinking?"

Wilson rolled his eyes and unwrapped his sandwich. "Just eat."

House grumbled for a moment then started in on his lunch. The two men ate in silence then leaned back in their chairs to drink their coffee.

"I heard you were right about your patient having thallium poisoning," Wilson said idly. "How's he responding to the treatment?"

"Actually Foreman was right," House replied. "And since those three idiots who pretend to work for me have been suspiciously absent since this morning, I'm not entirely sure."

"Maybe they heard about your display of temper in the clinic," Wilson suggested, sounding amused. "They could be waiting until you calm down. Neither patient is in danger of dying today so it's not like they _have_ to stick their heads in the lion's mouth."

"I like instilling the proper level of fear and trepidation in them," House replied smugly. "Means they stop pestering me with things they should be doing themselves."

"I'd be interested to know how he managed to _get_ poisoned by thallium," Wilson said. "And how are you treating him?"

"Prussian blue," House said absently. "His girlfriend has no idea how it might have happened so we'll have to wait until he's lucid enough to talk. It's an interesting question. Thallium hasn't been used on a commercial basis in rat poisons since the mid-eighties. It's still used in nuclear medicine but not in the kind of concentrations that could cause poisoning."

Wilson opened his mouth to reply then he paused and frowned. "_Prussian blue_? Isn't that a dye?"

House looked amused. "Yes. Activated charcoal is an alternate treatment but Prussian blue is more effective. And considering the condition he's in, I thought it the best treatment."

"How did you get your hands on it?" Wilson asked curiously.

"They use it in the lab as a reagent," House replied dismissively.

"Bet your ducklings had to answer all sorts of interesting question when they went down to the lab," Wilson replied with amusement.

"Good," House replied then some very determined movement in their direction caught his eye. He looked over to see Foreman striding towards them and he drained the last of his coffee. "I think Foreman lost the coin toss."

Wilson glanced over and laughed. "He doesn't look too happy about it."

"Foreman never looks happy," House replied. "I think he doesn't like me. I'm terribly hurt by it all."

Wilson smothered a laugh as Foreman came within hearing distance. They both saw the neurologist give House a measuring glance as he walked up to the table.

"The tests came back negative," Foreman said without preamble. "Every part of the gardens we tested showed no signs of the Nocardia bacteria."

House grimaced. "'Bout what I expected. What strain does he have?"

"Nocardia asteroides," Foreman replied.

House was silent as he thought this latest news through. "Go back to the patient. If the infection didn't come from the hospital gardens, it must have come from his home or the home of someone who came to visit him."

"What are we looking for?" Foreman asked.

"Anyone who brought him flowers or a _potplant_ maybe," House said archly. "It's a bacteria that lives in _dirt_. Take that as your lead."

Foreman nodded then gave House another searching look before he turned and left. House glared at the doctor's retreating back then pulled his bottle of Vicodin out of his pocket. He glanced at it for a moment and could feel Wilson's measuring gaze on him. He hesitated for a moment then shoved the bottle back into his pocket; like this morning, he could wait. Probably not as long as he had earlier but certainly a little while longer.

He looked up to see Wilson giving him a small, relieved smile. His lips quirked in response and he looked back in the direction Foreman had gone.

"Think he knows?" he said idly, gesturing in that direction with his thumb.

"Why would he?" Wilson replied with surprise.

"He saw it this morning," House replied. "When he came in to tell me that the results had arrived for my thallium patient."

Wilson shrugged. "He's hardly likely to disapprove. He might even help if you let him. He doesn't like you but he does respect you."

House grunted and pushed himself to his feet. "Better go and look at these test results," he said as he grabbed his cane. "Who knows what he didn't tell me? Like how my thallium patient is doing."

He limped off into the hospital building and Wilson watched him go rather pensively. He'd started the ball rolling on something here and could only hope it didn't turn into an avalanche.


	6. Chapter 6

Well, I have been successfully procrastinating on my NaNoNovel by writing two more chapters of Toxic Lives...but somehow I don't think any of you are going to complain! Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 6

House limped into the Diagnostic Medicine conference room to find Foreman and Chase poring over a file, their backs to the door.

"Cameron talking to the boy?" he said, enjoying the way they jumped in surprise.

"Uh, yes," Chase said, visibly collecting himself. "His parents are here as well so she said she'd speak to them while she's there."

House waited expectantly, trying to ignore the growing ache in his leg. "And?" he finally prompted sharply.

"And what?" Foreman asked, once again watching House closely.

House's expression practically screamed 'Oh Lord, save me from these idiots I must endure'. "I believe we still have a patient. Thallium boy. Remember him? I don't suppose either of you happen to know how _he_ is?"

"Uh, he's not showing any signs of improvement yet but he's also not getting any worse," Foreman reported.

"Good," House muttered as he limped towards his office. "Keep the treatment going. His recovery's likely to be lengthy."

Foreman and Chase nodded and watched as House limped more heavily than he would have liked into his office. As they continued to watch, House collapsed heavily into his chair.

"What's going on with him?" Chase asked, having noticed the pronounced limp.

"I don't know," Foreman replied thoughtfully. "I think his leg was hurting a lot earlier."

"His leg always hurts," Chase said, sounding unimpressed.

"Yeah but he didn't take any Vicodin," Foreman replied.

Chase looked surprised. "That's strange. He's not detoxing again, is he?"

"I don't think so. He's not acting like he is."

"Yeah and Dr Wilson hasn't taken up residence here either," Chase mused.

The two young doctors looked over at their boss through the glass walls. As they watched, House dug the pill bottle out of his pocket and stared at it for a long moment before popping the lid off and swallowing a pill.

"Well, there's proof he's not detoxing," Chase said then he shrugged. "Maybe he's cutting down."

Foreman snorted. "How likely is _that_?"

Chase gave a small laugh. "Good point." He checked his watch. "I've got clinic duty. See you later."

Chase walked out of the conference room leaving Foreman to stare speculatively at House. Finally the neurologist gave his head a small shake and left to check on their patient.

House had, for once, not noticed any of this. He was slouched in his chair waiting for the Vicodin to take effect and wondering whether he was actually capable of cutting down and whether he had perhaps developed a tolerance for the pain killer that would make cutting down extremely unpleasant. He eventually breathed out as the Vicodin wound its way around the pain in his leg and dulled it down to a vaguely tolerable ache.

As the pain dulled, his thoughts began to roll around his head more rapidly. Wilson had caught him by surprise earlier with his declaration and it had taken all of his self-control not to run or lash out cruelly in some way. Love was something he was deeply suspicious of now, being a firm believer in the once bitten, twice shy adage. And yet…

And yet there had been a part of him that had _liked_ hearing that. That had been _pleased_ to hear that. That had wanted to respond in kind.

He snorted lightly. Clearly _Wilson_ didn't believe in once bitten, twice shy. Three wives, who knows how many girlfriends and now House himself were testament to that. But something made him believe what Wilson had said, _all_ of what he had said. He knew Wilson would not press him to say anything in return until and if he was ready. But _being_ ready to say…_that_ in return would require him to actually acknowledge to himself how he felt and he'd spent far too many years shoving his emotions into small boxes to be able to easily do that.

His internal musings were interrupted by the arrival of the person who had triggered them. Wilson pushed the door to his office open and strode in, a file in his hand.

"I've got a second patient who has tested positive to the Nocardia," the oncologist said without preamble. "Forty-eight year old woman with advanced breast cancer. She was showing signs of pneumonia so I had her tested on a hunch. I've already started her on the antibiotics and I hope we've caught it before any abscesses occur."

"Has she had any contact with your other patient?" House asked, sitting up a bit with interest.

"They're in the same ward and probably have some of the same personnel looking after them but otherwise no," Wilson replied, almost falling into his chair.

"Nocardia is most often transmitted by breathing in the bacteria," House mused. "So if you've got two patients who aren't related showing symptoms then it can't be something from their homes."

"Unless the gardens of both homes have the bacteria in the soil," Wilson pointed out.

"True," House said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "But both patients have been confined to the hospital recently. That would make their chances of contracting it from their homes pretty slim."

"Then it _has_ to be coming from somewhere in the hospital," Wilson said grimly.

"Check your staff," House said shortly.

"For what?" Wilson asked.

"Cutaneous nocardiosis," House replied. "Person to person transmission of Nocardia has never been reported but there's always a first for everything. Look for skin infections that might have been diagnosed as something else. They'll most likely be on the arm and legs, especially the feet." He pushed himself to his feet and started limping back and forth. "It can't have progressed too far or they'd be off sick so they can't be showing any of the advanced symptoms. They may have a fever though."

Wilson shook his head. "It can't be that. Everyone in Oncology is very careful about being around immunocompromised patients with any kind of illness or rash. If someone had a fever they would take time off and see a doctor immediately."

"Check them anyway," House demanded. "Better to be safe than sorry."

Wilson nodded. "Yeah, you're right," he said, conceding the point.

"I'll get my people to do a more thorough check of the hospital gardens…" House's voice trailed off as he thought for a moment. "I'll also get them to check with the lab. See if anyone's been culturing the stuff lately for anything other than the tests we ordered."

"If this turns out to be nosocomial, Cuddy's going to burst a blood vessel," Wilson said as he stood.

House snorted. "Nosocomial outbreaks of infection happen no matter how good your cleanliness is. Though that reminds me, I'll get them to test the air and surfaces in the rooms in the Oncology ward as well. If it's nosocomial we should find it in the dust." He paused and smirked. "Though watching Cuddy's brain explode would be quite entertaining and potentially very messy."

Wilson chuckled. "Do you want me to organise the testing of the rooms?"

"Nah," House replied as they walked out of the office. "Gives my _ducklings_ as you call them something to do while we're waiting to see how thallium boy responds to treatment."

"I'm sure he has a name," Wilson chided.

"Probably," House replied as he headed for his patient's room. Wilson grinned and walked off in the opposite direction.

As he limped along the corridor, House saw that Foreman was in with their patient and he slid the door open and walked in. He glanced over at the unconscious form on the bed then at the rather tired-looking young woman sitting next to the bed holding the patient's hand as Foreman looked up.

"Foreman," he said sharply, startling the woman. "Find Chase and Cameron. Wilson's got another patient with Nocardiosis. Test every garden in the hospital then test the air and surfaces in the rooms in the Oncology ward."

"Uh, okay," Foreman said slowly. "Andrew's hair is starting to fall out."

House stared blankly at Foreman until the neurologist indicated the patient on the bed. "Ah!" House said with understanding. "Alopecia is expected with thallium poisoning. Assuming the treatment works, it'll pass. Hair grows back."

"Who is _he_?" the girl sitting next to the bed demanded of Foreman.

"This is Dr House," Foreman replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Oh!" the girl said, blushing. "Oh, I'm sorry, Dr House. I didn't know. You don't look like…" Her voice trailed off and Foreman smothered a snicker. "Um, how…how long until Andrew starts getting better?" she stammered nervously.

"That'll depend on how much thallium he has in his system," House replied. "But expect it to take some time." He turned to Foreman. "You are measuring the thallium concentrations in the blood and urine, aren't you?"

"Of course," Foreman replied irritably. "We sent the first lot off this morning and we'll repeat them every two days."

House grunted. "Good. Get those tests done for Nocardia." He turned to limp out of the room.

"Dr House?" The girl's voice had him pausing with one hand on the door. "How did this happen?" she asked.

"Well, I'm not psychic so the answer to that had better come from him or you," House replied. "Thallium used to be used in ant, rat and cockroach poisons and is used in low concentrations in nuclear medicine. Anything ring a bell?"

The girl frowned. "No, not really," she said slowly.

"Then start thinking," House said before limping out of the room. He paused in the corridor then returned. "Where does he work?"

"Uh, he's…a life guard at our local pool," she said, sounding a little confused.

House frowned then left the room abruptly, trying to work out how a twenty-four year old life guard gets poisoned with thallium. If he had been working in a smelting plant it would have made more sense but a _pool_?

* * *

House limped into Wilson's office just before six that evening and found his lover poring over a file. Wilson looked up when he came in and gave him a small tired smile.

"I decided to test all of the patients in the Oncology ward," he said. "Three more came up positive but aren't showing symptoms as yet. It must be nosocomial."

House sat down opposite Wilson. "Seems likely with that number of positive tests. Foreman and the others came through?"

Wilson nodded and started to pack up. "They tested the rooms to the nth degree. We probably won't get _those_ results back for a day or two. I'm surprised we didn't hear the howls of anguish from the lab about the workload from here."

"About time they started earning their money," House replied as he stood.

Wilson gave him a look and refrained from making pot and kettle comments about workloads in favour of finishing his packing. The two them headed out the door and down to the car park.

"I heard you went to see your thallium patient," Wilson said as they got into the Corvette.

"I went to find Foreman who happened to be in thallium boy's room," House corrected as they pulled out of the car park.

"You spoke to his girlfriend."

"Foreman has a girlfriend?" House said with surprise. "He's working for me. He's not meant to have a life."

"The patient's girlfriend," Wilson said with amusement.

"Oh, her, yes," House replied. "She didn't think I was a doctor."

"Can't imagine why," Wilson replied.

"Exactly," House said with an admirably straight face.

"So what did she want?" Wilson asked.

House shrugged. "What else do patient's loved ones want to know? How long until they're going to get better?"

"Did you give her an answer?"

House was silent for while as he concentrated on driving.

"There is no answer," House finally replied to Wilson's question with a scowl. "He'll get better when he gets better. It largely depends on how much thallium he has in his system. And there's no guarantee that there won't be lasting effects."

Wilson nodded. "Yes, I looked it up today."

"Just answer this for me," House said with frustration. "How does a life guard at a pool get poisoned with thallium?"

"Angry girlfriend?"

"She didn't seem that angry," House replied.

"What does thallium look like anyway?" Wilson asked. "Maybe he mistook it for something else?"

"It's a bluish-grey metal," House replied. "But there's a powder form which is white."

"That could be your answer," Wilson pointed out. "Maybe he got his hands on the powder but didn't know what it was."

House was silent as he pulled into the car park out the front of his apartment. "That's a point," he said finally. "I'll have Foreman speak to the girlfriend tomorrow. I read about a group of Russian soldiers who found a tin of thallium powder and didn't know what it was. They put it in their tobacco and used it as a replacement for talcum powder on their feet."

"You're kidding?" Wilson said with a laugh.

House unlocked the door and limped inside. He dropped his bag at the end of the couch and pulled off his jacket.

"Who can tell what goes on in the military mind," he said as he limped around and collapsed onto the couch. "Though they were conscripts."

Wilson picked up House's jacket and hung it up with his own. He headed into the kitchen and opened the fridge. "Did you want a beer?"

"Why not," House replied, slouching down a little further. He propped his bad leg up on the table and let his head fall onto the back of the couch.

Wilson walked out of the kitchen, his expression softening when he saw the weariness in House's pose. He knew that cutting back on the Vicodin would take its toll on the other man but felt it would be worth it in the end. It had always been an ongoing fear of his that one day he would come into the apartment and find that House had misjudged his mix of drugs and alcohol and since it was unlikely he could convince House to stop drinking, he would work on the part he might be able to influence. He wiped his expression clean however as he handed House his beer, knowing his lover wouldn't appreciate any sympathy he was prepared to offer right now.

"Why were they putting the powder in their _tobacco_?" he asked instead.

House snorted as he opened the bottle and tossed the lid in the direction of the table. "They were young Russian conscripts. Who knows why they do anything?"

"Good point," Wilson said with a laugh. "I did some pretty stupid things when I was a teenager."

House took a swig of his beer and raised an eyebrow at his lover. "Really? Care to share?"

Wilson blushed. "Not really. Though I've no doubts my mother would love to regale you with the stories if you ever ask her."

"Your mother doesn't like me."

Wilson frowned. "What gave you that idea?"

"Your last wedding."

"You were the best man and you popped a pill in the middle of the ceremony," Wilson pointed out. "My mother has always been one for proprieties. She thought it was inappropriate but she doesn't hate you. She thinks you're wonderful."

"You were the one that made me stand for that long," House replied almost sulkily.

"I offered to make arrangements when I asked you to be my best man," Wilson replied. "You said no. Rudely."

House rather loftily ignored that then he grinned. "You know, I thought it was the _bride_ that was supposed to run off with the best man in all those clichéd tales, not the groom."

"Since when have we ever done anything normally," Wilson replied with an answering grin then he got to his feet. "Pasta for dinner?"

"You're cooking?" House said with surprise.

"It's pasta," Wilson replied a fraction indignantly. "Boiling water, pasta, pasta sauce. It can't be that difficult, surely. Besides I think its time I learnt."

House looked dubious then grabbed the remote. "Don't destroy my kitchen," he said as he flicked the TV on. "And the fire extinguisher is in the closet."

"Ha, ha," Wilson said dryly as he headed for the kitchen, pulling his tie off and rolling up his sleeves.

House kept his attention on the TV and studiously ignored the clattering and occasional curse that was coming from his kitchen. He wasn't sure if that was because he genuinely didn't want to know what Wilson was doing in there or because this was disturbingly domestic. He wasn't even sure he and Stacy had ever been this domestic. He scowled at the TV; then again, he and Stacy had been a lot more active. They had both played sports of various kinds and had enjoyed going out. Sport was now purely a visual thing for him and going out was usually more tiring than fun. He flinched away rather abruptly from those thoughts.

Against his better judgement he leaned over and looked into the kitchen. Everything seemed to be running smoothly at the moment though Wilson had an expression on his face that spoke of some previous frustration. House let himself admire the view; he had always preferred the more casual, slightly ruffled Wilson he saw in private over the neat and almost pristine version that roamed the hospital with him.

He relaxed a bit and turned back to the TV, taking a drink of his beer. No matter what happened at the hospital and what revelations he got lumbered with he was just happy to have beer, dinner and Wilson in his evening. Preferably in that order though he'd accept a few more incidences of Wilson in that sequence as well. As he started flicking through the channels it occurred to him that there were people, such as Cameron for example, who would tell him that that kind of happiness was generally called love.

He snorted into his beer then sobered. Maybe they were right. He felt something in his chest clench and lurch at that thought then he closed his eyes and shook his head. No, he wasn't ready to think about that; not yet, maybe not ever. He determinedly pushed the thought away and concentrated on the TV until Wilson brought out the bowls of pasta.

He accepted the bowl and fork he was handed with a quirk of a smile and looked down at the pasta. "You survived the kitchen or the kitchen survived you. Now is it edible?"

"Of course it's edible," Wilson said with exasperation.

House smirked then twirled some of the fettuccine on his fork making sure he caught some of the sauce before eating it. He chewed and swallowed then pretended to consider the matter for a moment. He raised an eyebrow at Wilson who seemed torn between trying to ignore him and wanting to know the answer.

"Not bad," he said. "Maybe you really do deserve that Boy Wonder tag."

Wilson laughed and threw one of the beer bottle lids at him then they settled in to eat their meals.


	7. Chapter 7

Sorry about the choppy nature in the middle of this but there were things in there that couldn't be put up here, unless I took this up to the M rating and even then I would still have had to cut. grins So if you want to read the whole slightly smutty lot, you'll have to go to my swordkat LJ. I think the ending will make more sense if you do.

* * *

Chapter 7

House started awake with a choked curse and gasping breath, sitting up abruptly then hissing painfully as the sudden move jarred his leg. He swiped one hand down his face then flinched and let out a muffled oath when he felt a hand touch his back.

"Greg? It's me," Wilson said a little blearily as he sat up and turned on the light. "Nightmare?"

House lay back down with a huff and flung an arm over his eyes. "Yes," he said shortly.

"What happened? Do you remember?" Wilson asked. He propped himself up on his side and started gently caressing House's chest with one hand.

House let the petting soothe him as the nightmare reverberated around his brain. This is how he'd felt each time he'd been jerked awake in the last two weeks but this was the first time he'd been able to remember what had woken him. He scowled as he let the details of the nightmare replay in his mind; he was too old to get disturbed by a mere dream.

"Greg?" Wilson said when he felt House had been silent for too long.

"Armitage won," House replied in clipped tones as he reached for his Vicodin. He quickly swallowed one before Wilson could say anything then closed his eyes and let out a deep breath, trying to relax his tense muscles, returning one arm to lie over his eyes.

Wilson was silent as he continued his light caresses. House's insomnia was starting to make some sense. He'd had a few nightmares about that possibility himself; mostly that he'd not been able to get there in time when House tried that ridiculous stunt.

"It's perfectly normal. They'll pass," he said slowly. "I've had a few like that myself."

He got a flash of blue as House moved his arm and his eyes flickered open briefly. "When?"

"You were still in hospital," Wilson replied. "Though I've had one or two since then. Probably after you've woken and gotten up in the middle of the night."

"Haven't had nightmares since I was a ki…" House's voice had started out rather petulant but was choked off with a small gasp.

Wilson frowned then he closed his eyes briefly. He remembered; for about four weeks after the surgery on his leg House had woken up screaming from nightmares. Nightmares where the leg was being amputated while he was awake and protesting that that wasn't supposed to happen; nightmares where the wrong leg was being taken and he was left in the same agony that had prompted the surgery while everyone thought it had been a success; nightmares where a grinning Stacy was slowly ripping off his injured leg. They'd had all had the same theme but had just differed in the details. _Wilson_ knew about this because he'd often fallen asleep next to House's bed in those weeks and been woken by the other man's panicked cries. They'd never spoken about it either before _or_ after the nightmares faded; House hadn't wanted to remember them or his reaction to them, either his panic or his savage words of explanation to Wilson as the younger man had tried to calm him down.

His gentle caresses stopped and he pulled House's arm away from his eyes, turning the older man's head so that it was facing him. House's expression was blank and unreadable.

"Your nightmares are perfectly normal," Wilson said firmly. "Both now and…then. They'll go away."

"They haven't yet," House replied, uncertainty starting to crawl into his eyes.

"They will," Wilson said. "The others did. These will as well." He paused then leaned forward and captured House's lips in a warm, gentle, soothing kiss.

House didn't respond at first then a shudder passed through him and his lips parted, inviting further exploration. Wilson took up that invitation and when he finally pulled away from his delightful exploration, the uncertainty had faded from House's eyes and had been replaced by desire.

A memory ran through Wilson's mind and his lips quirked into a wicked smile. "Now weren't you saying something earlier about needing something…_lanced_?"

House's breath caught momentarily and lust suddenly competed with the desire in his eyes. "Think you can help, Dr Wilson?" he said, his voice a low rasp.

A slow smile settled on Wilson's face and he sat up, his hands returning to their caressing of House's body.

"I'm very skilled," he said in a suggestive tone.

**Snippity-snip. Cut for naughty, naughty behaviour. Sorry people, can't put this up here, you'll have to go to my swordkat lj to read that bit!**

"That's one way to get rid of those nightmares," he murmured as he buried his face into Wilson's neck.

"_I_ like it," Wilson replied lazily.

Silence drifted between the two of them for a while then House said quietly, "I never thanked you for what you did back then."

Wilson, who had been slowly falling asleep, suddenly found himself awake again though still definitely relaxed.

"You never needed to," he replied softly.

"Maybe," House muttered. "But thank you anyway."

Wilson bit his lip then pressed a kiss into House's hair. "You're welcome."

House wrapped himself a little further around his lover and closed his eyes. Wilson tightened his arms and took a deep breath as he felt himself slip towards sleep once again.

"Love you," he murmured sleepily.

"I know," came the whispered response as Wilson fell asleep.

House woke up the next morning to find himself alone in the bed, his leg propped up on a pillow. He could hear the shower running in the bathroom and a quick glance at the clock showed that Wilson was up early. He stretched a little lazily and rolled over onto his back, wincing at the early morning ache in his leg. He was just contemplating trying for a few more minutes sleep when his pager went off. He growled softly then leaned over and picked up the pager and the phone.

"What do you want?" he barked down the phone when it was picked up at the other end.

"Andrew Watson has started having convulsions," came Chase's voice down the phone line.

"What?" House snapped. "When?"

"This morning," Chase replied. "About five am. They lasted for about two minutes then stopped."

"Dammit," House muttered as he reached for his cane. "The neurological symptoms should be _decreasing_. Alright…start treating him with activated charcoal as well as the Prussian blue. Standard dosage will do. And check his scalp and skin, including his fingernails. And give the lab a kick so that we can get the results of his blood and urine thallium concentration tests. I'll be in as soon as possible."

He hung up the phone without waiting for Chase's response and got to his feet. He grabbed his Vicodin and swallowed one hastily before limping over to the bathroom and walking in.

"You better not have taken all the hot water," he said sharply as he rested his cane against the sink and opened the door of the shower and carefully got in.

"Just got in," Wilson replied with surprise. "I thought you were asleep."

"I was," House replied as he reached for the soap. "Then I woke up then Chase paged me."

"What's happened?" Wilson asked, shaking water out of his hair and licking his lips as he gazed at his lover.

"Thallium boy's having convulsions," House said shortly as he started to wash himself.

Wilson blinked. "Really? That's…not good." He paused. "You _do_ know his name, don't you?"

House scowled. "Of course I do. It's Andrew Watson." He paused then gave an amused snort. "Thallium boy just sounds better."

Wilson laughed. "Do you want me to drive you in?" The question was a subtle way of asking whether House had taken any Vicodin.

House nodded as he began to rinse the soap off. When he got to his right thigh, he paused and looked up at Wilson who was just about to get out of the shower.

"Why did you do that?" House asked with a mix of curiousity and confusion.

Wilson blinked. "Greg," he said patiently. "Asking me to be psychic at this time of the morning is a bit much. Why did I do _what_?"

House's lips thinned as he stared down at his leg then he looked up. Wilson had followed his line of sight and realisation dawned.

"Okay, maybe I _can_ be psychic," Wilson said. "Because it's part of you. Whether you and I like it or not, it's part of you. It's not what makes you, it's not your defining characteristic, it's just…part of what you are. I don't love you _because_ of your leg. I don't love you _in spite_ of your leg. I just love you. Gregory House, the acerbic, sarcastic, misanthropic bastard of a doctor who has a limp, a cane, a bad attitude and an addiction to Vicodin. And I'd love you if you _weren't_ any or all of those things."

House froze at the end of this affectionate little diatribe then he brought one hand up and cupped Wilson's cheek. He swallowed hard and opened his mouth to say something but for one of the first times in his life, he was speechless.

Wilson watched for a moment then he smiled. "You mean _that's_ what it takes to render you inarticulate. I'll have to remember that."

The comment didn't break the mood though it did ease it a little. House carefully drew Wilson towards him and kissed him, the water from the shower beating down on them both. The kiss started out gentle but quickly modulated into something fierce and possessive. House finally broke away and stared at Wilson, his expression a little wild and almost fearful.

"I…," he said in a ragged voice as though he was forcing the words out past some terrible blockage. "I…love you."

The last was said quietly, so quietly Wilson almost didn't hear it over the sound of the water that was still running down their bodies. His breath caught and he almost had to force his lungs to breathe again. A large part of him had honestly not expected House to ever be able to say those words. He'd thought that maybe his lover was too damaged by what had happened to him to ever be able to say them aloud.

Wilson gently cradled House's face in his own and let a delighted smile settle on his face. He could see that wild and fearful look start to fade as he said quietly, "I know."


	8. Chapter 8

This is the final chapter for this fic - Enjoy and yes, I do intend to write more.

* * *

The drive into the hospital was completed in silence. House did not seem inclined to talk and Wilson was prepared to give his lover all the time he needed to become comfortable with what had happened this morning. After he parked the car, House levered himself out then waited. 

"Coming?" he said in a deceptively casual tone once Wilson had gotten out.

"Why not?" Wilson replied. "Your coffee's better."

A smile flashed across House's face and the two doctors made their way up to House's office. Chase was waiting for them, looking both tired and slightly impatient.

"Andrew's girlfriend, Emma Davis, arrived about ten minutes ago," he said when they came out into the conference room. "She's feeling nauseous and was vomiting this morning before she came in and she says her feet and hands are tingling."

House froze in the action of picking up the coffee pot and turned slightly to stare at Chase.

"Did it just start this morning?" he demanded.

"She's been feeling nauseous for the last couple of days but passed it off as being caused by worrying about Andrew and not eating much," Chase replied. "But when her hands and feet started tingling this morning she realised that's how Andrew had reacted and she came straight in."

House put the coffee pot down and limped out of the conference room, Chase and Wilson behind him. He set a surprisingly fast pace as he headed for Andrew Watson's room. They arrived to find Cameron checking on Andrew and Foreman examining the young woman he had seen the previous day. She looked frightened and a little overwhelmed. House pulled the door open and limped in.

"Do you live with him?" House asked the young woman without preamble.

"Uh…yes, sort of," Emma replied hesitantly. "We lived together for about a year then we broke up eight months ago. We ran into each other about six weeks ago and got talking. We decided to try it again and I moved back in about a week ago."

"So it's in his _home_," House said under his breath then he looked down at Emma again. "What does he own that's a powder? A _white_ powder. Something that's new. Something that he started using in the last few weeks."

Emma blinked and thought hard. "I…don't know. Oh! He…he had some new powder that one of his friends at the pool had recommended. Andrew always complains about his feet. He spends so much time around water that he has terrible problems with his feet. Tinea is the least of it."

"Have you used it?" House asked intently.

"I…yes," Emma said, her eyes widening. "It's…very high quality powder." She paled. "Is…is _that_ what poisoned Andrew?"

"We'll need the powder," House said flatly.

"I…brought some in a couple of days ago," Emma said tearfully. "So that Andrew could keep treating his feet."

"Where is it?" House demanded.

Emma scurried over to the cabinet beside the bed. She opened the top drawer and pulled out a small bottle filled with a fine white powder. Cameron took the powder from Emma and hurried out of the room without needing any prompting.

"No wonder his symptoms worsened even with treatment," House said acidly. "He was still being exposed to it."

"Am I going to end up like Andrew?" Emma asked timorously.

"No because we're going to start treating you right away," House replied. He looked over at Chase. "Get the young lady a bed and start her on Prussian blue."

Chase nodded and gently took Emma's arm. "Come on. We can get you settled in next door."

Emma followed him almost dazedly.

"Do we continue giving Andrew the activated charcoal?" Foreman asked.

House nodded. "We'd better," he said sourly. "He's going to need all the help he can get. The continued exposure means he's at greater risk of permanent neurological damage."

"I read that forced diuresis with potassium loading can be used as an alternative treatment," Foreman said as House turned to leave.

"He's too far advanced for that to be of any use," House replied. "The excess of potassium would only exacerbate the neurological symptoms. He doesn't need that. Continue with what we've been doing. This was always going be a long term treatment."

Foreman nodded and House limped out into the corridor, Wilson joining him.

"How long term will the treatment be?" Wilson asked as they walked back to House's office.

House shrugged. "Can't tell. It'll depend on how long it takes his body to clear the thallium. And with the exposure he's had, he's probably going to have some long term ongoing neurological problems."

Wilson grimaced and held the door open for House, gaining himself a mildly irritated look. He rolled his eyes in response then headed out into the conference room for coffee. He brought a cup back for House then sat down on the other side of the desk.

"We should start getting some results back regarding the presence or otherwise of Nocardia," Wilson offered.

"It's probably in the dust," House said as he reached for his coffee cup. "But I'd like to know the original source."

"A patient or their family might have brought it in ages ago," Wilson said with frustration. "It might not even be from anyone from Oncology. The bacteria may have been in the rooms before we were shifted down here."

Wilson sighed and got to his feet. "I better go and find out what happening."

House gave him a salute with his cup and watched him go. He was still feeling a little off-balance about what had happened this morning. He hadn't even known he was going to say that but Wilson's affectionate little lecture had stunned him slightly. Hell, Wilson actually acknowledging the mess that was his right thigh by kissing it had stunned him. He stared down at the denim-encased thigh and scowled slightly. He hated the way it looked now, particularly when he remembered how it had once looked before the infarction. In truth, Wilson showed more acceptance for his leg than he did.

He leaned back in his chair and sipped at his coffee. He didn't regret what he'd said this morning, that he was sure of. He hadn't planned on saying it, hadn't expected to say it but he was…_happy_ to have it out there. Because it was true. Because he _did_ love James Wilson. He snorted lightly; Cameron seemed to think that if he could love someone then his life would become all sweetness and light and his happiness would be assured. Well, now he _did_ love someone again and life didn't seem all that much different. Perhaps a bit _better_ than it was a few weeks ago, certainly less lonely, less filled with bitterness. But little birds weren't singing, he didn't feel the urge to smile at everyone and he certainly had no great desire to be helpful and kind to all and sundry. Which just proved that Cameron needed to change her view of life and love to something a bit more realistic and until she did she was going to face a lot of disappointment in her life.

He put the cup down on his desk and grabbed his cane. One of the greatest annoyances that resulted from the infarction was that he'd always thought better on his feet, something that was now a much more painful affair. But he still did it when he needed to do some serious thinking, usually roaming the corridors of the hospital, and that was what was needed now.

* * *

He was paged to Wilson's office about an hour later and found his lover staring down at the file on his desk with irritation and frustration. 

"Got the results then?" he said as he limped in and dropped into a chair.

Wilson flipped the file towards him. "They found it in the dust in practically every room," he said in something close to a growl. "The entire ward is going to have to be closed so it can be decontaminated. All of the patients moved into temporary rooms on other floors. All of the offices cleared. Everything."

"Have you told Cuddy?" House asked as he read the file.

"Yes," Wilson said, some of his frustration draining away and a small smile flitting across his face. "I could almost swear I saw a vein throbbing in her forehead."

"Hey, if her head's going to explode, I want to be there," House said with amusement.

Wilson snorted. "I wouldn't push her right now, by the way. I doubt she'd find any of your usual shenanigans amusing at this point. And I'm sure you wouldn't like any more clinic hours."

House rolled his eyes. "I'll be good, mother." He closed the file and tossed it on Wilson's desk. "How's your first Nocardiosis patient?"

"He's showing some signs of recovery," Wilson said with a sense of relief. "But it's still too early to tell for sure. It is looking like we won't have to drain the cerebral abscesses though. And there weren't any further abscesses anywhere else."

"Good," House replied.

"Mmm," Wilson muttered. "I'd still like to know where the Nocardia came from."

"So do I but we may never know," House said idly. "But it does raise some questions about the cleaning standards of the maintenance staff."

"Cuddy said something along those lines," Wilson replied. "She said something about speaking with them."

"Nothing like closing the stable door once the horse has bolted," House said dryly.

"Do we have any other option?" Wilson said with a shrug. He eyed House with a hint of concern. "Are you alright?"

House frowned. "Of course. Why?" Wilson raised an eyebrow and House rolled his eyes. "I'm fine. I don't regret saying it if that's what you were asking."

"I'm glad," Wilson replied with a brief, brilliant smile. "I was a little surprised."

House shrugged, getting a little uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. Wilson saw this and smiled wryly. He got up and walked around, leaning against his desk so that his left leg was resting against his lover's.

"So was Cameron right?" he asked with a hint of mischief. "Are you _happy_?"

House snorted. "Am I ever happy?"

"You were pretty pleased last night," Wilson said idly.

That drew a laugh from House and he brushed Wilson's leg with his hand. "Yeah, I guess I'm happy. But if you tell anyone, especially Cameron, I'm denying it."

"You just don't want to tell her she's right," Wilson countered.

House sobered. "She's not right. My life hasn't dramatically changed just because I admitted I love you. It's still mostly crap, my leg's still screwed up, it still hurts. It's just…_better_ that's all."

"Well, you take what you can get," Wilson said with understanding.

House looked contemplative for a moment then he smiled. "I've got you, the 'Vette, my job. Life's about as good as it's going to get for the moment."

* * *

I know this ending wasn't as clean as the last one but it seemed the best time to end it for the House/Wilson side of the story. The medical side doesn't have a nice clean ending. Both problems, the Nocardiosis and the thallium poisoning, have a long treatment and recovery time and detailing that would take longer than I wanted - both recoveries take weeks, if not months and I think I left it in a reasonably positive way. I have no doubts I'm going to write another sequel as soon as I find something else interesting so I can do some follow-up when I do that. Hope you enjoyed it.  



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